COPS: The Walking Dead Version
by leafs nation
Summary: AU: Shortly after being released from prison, Lee reunites with a very regretful best friend, Kenny, after having taken the fall for the old fisherman. With an absolutely outrageous idea, Kenny suggests that they turn over a new leaf and join the Georgia State Patrol. Will they be able to track down criminals like they used to be? Or will they be the laughing stock of the cops?
1. Freedom

"Well, here we are," Officer Rick announces, as if this is the first time I've ever been here. It's my house, man – I know what it looks like.

Stepping out of the front seat, he comes around back and slowly opens the door for me before ordering me to stand up. The ride was ridiculously long (a good three and a half hours at least with all of the traffic), so my legs feel a bit numb as I stand up and stretch out my body. Ahh… the sweet smell of fresh air! You've got no idea how stuffy it was in the back seat.

"Lee, we've gotta… you know," he reminds me sheepishly, even though I'm now a free man. "It's just procedure, man. Should be the last time."

Huffing out an exhausted sigh, I hold my arms out to the side as he pats me down; what he'd be searching for I have no idea. It's not as if I'd be able to grab a knife or a gun anywhere, not after just having come out of Georgia State Penitentiary. But Rick's a good man, so I'm not quite as offended as I would've been with someone else.

That doesn't mean that I won't call him out for it, though.

"You really think I've got something on me, Rick? I've been sitting in the car with _you _the whole time."

"Hell… just be thankful it's me doing this and not Shane… I had to pull some strings just to get him _not _to come."

"Yeah, he didn't like me too much, did he?" I comment, shaking my head. I swear, Shane Walsh has to be one of the angriest cops that I've ever met. He wouldn't beat you up or anything, but he sure had one hell of a temper.

Doing the last of his checks, Rick gives a satisfied nod and walks with me into the house. "Nice place," he compliments, looking around inside.

"Heh, if you call a layer of dust nice, then yeah, it's beautiful," I reply sarcastically, wiping my finger over the dining room table. It's been quite a while since I've set foot in this place.

"Well," he starts, putting his hands on his hips, "I guess this is it, then. Remember – you don't go outside the city for a month, understand? That means no big vacations over to Mexico or any of that shit. If you need anything, give me a call on my cell or my home phone. Lori will let me know if you do… probably."

Both of us chuckle a little bit as I shake his hand, grateful for all he's done. I make a mental note to get him a gift basket or something later after my home sentence is up.

"Thanks, Rick. Really, I appreciate it."

"Yeah, well I know you're a good man inside, Lee. Just try to stay out of trouble, would ya?"

…

Crouching down in the front yard, I wipe the sweat off my brow as the hot, summer sun beats down upon me. I don't usually do much gardening, but I figure that I might as well give it a shot now that I'm back. It's just me turning over a new leaf – literally and figuratively.

I missed this neighbourhood. Everyone was always so friendly and pleasant to be around, even though after news hit of my jail sentence they probably figured I was a threat to their safety. But so far there haven't been any attacks on my house, no death threats from angry mothers or any racial slurs.

Maybe they just all moved away.

Hearing the small dinging noise of a child's bicycle, I smirk at how little has changed around here. I live in a pretty safe neighbourhood, without any real violence around except for one unfortunate incident involving a state senator…

No it wasn't me! Don't get any funny ideas!

"You're back!" I hear a small voice call from behind me, and sitting on her bicycle is none other than Clementine. She looks incredibly cute with her purple bike helmet and matching bike, plus the fact that she still never takes her hat off even while riding that thing. Add to the fact that she's always got a smile on her face, and it really makes me wish that I had pushed more to have kids. Maybe it would've brought Donna and I closer together…

"Hey there, Clem," I sigh sadly, "Good to see you, kiddo. But umm… are your parents… alright with you talking to me? I mean, after everything that's happened?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't they be?" she asks inquisitively, cocking her head to the side. "They don't think you did the thing that you went to jail for. Plus, you're my friend! I wanted to see how you were doing."

It makes me incredibly happy to know that she and her family still care about me, but the truth of the matter is that although I didn't do everything they accused me of, I still wasn't totally guilt-free.

But I don't need to trouble a twelve year old with that kind of stuff.

"So I guess you're all done school now, huh?" I ask, wiping some of the dirt off of my gloves.

"Yep! I'm on summer vacation – it gets kind of boring though. Most of my friends went on holidays, so I'm just going to the park to find something to do."

"Ahh, I see. Well, when you talk to your parents again, tell them I said…"

Cutting myself off, I sigh heavily as my old friend's beaten-up pickup truck comes rolling into the driveway… I need to get inside as quickly as possible.

"Hi Kenny!" Clementine beams, getting a nod from the old fisherman as he steps out of the truck.

As soon as I wave goodbye to Clementine, I drop the gardening tools and start to head up to the front door, ignoring Kenny's attempts to stop me.

"Come on, man! Don't be like that!" he complains, rushing up behind me, "I just wanted to stop by and say hello!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" I whisper harshly, turning around. "I rotted in jail for _two fucking years _for you, just so you could keep your damn family life going! And you're just dropping by to say hi? Go to hell, man."

"Look, I know what it seems like, but it ain't like that! Really! This whole thing was my fault, I know. And I don't think there's much I can do to make it up to you. But… I don't see the harm in trying to start."

"Kenny, do you even know what would've happened that day at the police station if I'd told them you were involved?" I ask angrily, folding my arms across my chest. "We would've both sat in jail for a year, and gotten enough fines that we'd end up having to resort back to stealing _again! _And then we would've gotten into even bigger shit! I put my ass on the line for you, Kenny, and you just waltz back into my life as if nothing had ever happened!"

"I know that, which is why I want to try and right all the wrongs," he explains, looking rather guilty about the whole thing. "Look… I owe you my life for what you did for me, saving my skin and all. But that shouldn't mean that we just stop being best friends! Let me try to make it up to you, at least!"

Biting my lip, I consider my options. I can either try to repair this damaged, crumbled and ridiculous friendship, or I can tell him to fuck off and leave him out of my life permanently.

…of course, knowing Kenny, he'd just keep calling my house until I'm forced to disconnect the phone line, so…

"Ugh… fine, come in," I tell him, beckoning him over my shoulder as I yank off the gardening gloves and toss them carelessly on the porch. They're probably the least valuable thing I possess, so I'm not worried about anybody taking them.

Besides, who ever heard of somebody stealing from the thief himself?

Perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let me take you back to how this whole thing started, and why I was tossed into prison in the first place.

Kenny and I were the best of friends… we were a couple of blood brothers, even though we weren't technically related in any way. We met each other as teenagers when Kenny moved here to Georgia from his home in Fort Lauderdale.

Anyway, as youths, we got into all sorts of crazy shenanigans. We'd get completely shit faced every other weekend, pull pranks (on guys that were much bigger than us, and much more willing to react forcefully… don't ask), and just cause a whole lot of mischief around the high school.

But nothing gave us more of a thrill than theft and robberies – those were our bread and butter crimes.

At first, I was really pissed at Kenny for doing it. He thought that he was such a bad ass when he stole a bunch of chocolate bars from a convenience store without getting caught… and then it was the packs of gum… and then money from the cash register.

Somehow, he managed to convince me to try my luck. It was at a grocery store; Kenny waited for me outside and said that if I came back empty-handed, I was either a giant wussy or too stupid to do it. So when I came back out with about forty dollars' worth in cash, I told Kenny to go stick it somewhere. That's when our crime spree truly began.

By the time we turned twenty-two years of age, we both started to realize that we could potentially do this as a sort of job. We moved into an apartment together in downtown Atlanta, on one of the most expensive blocks in the city. I was at UGA, which is where I would one day teach history, while Kenny was practicing to be a commercial fisherman. And how did we pay for our luxurious lives in urban Atlanta? Well, it wasn't due to our part-time jobs as Subway and McDonald's – those were more for spending money than anything else. No, our income came almost entirely from stealing cash from unsuspecting shop owners, as well as selling off stolen merchandise to underground markets.

The only time either of us got caught (before the bust two years ago) was when Kenny decided to get piss drunk one night and try his luck with a really bitchy ex-Marine named Larry. I knew his daughter, Lilly, from a couple of parties that I went to back in the day, but I haven't had any contact with her over the last two years obviously. Anyways, Larry Caul was a big, strong brute of a man, and when he noticed Kenny stumble in and try to take a fucking box of Oreos… let's just say that a black eye and a night at the police station weren't the worst things that could've happened to him.

It wasn't until about three and a half years ago that we started going for the big kahunas: stolen vehicles. We were a couple of cocky, bold crooks that thought we were almost entirely invincible, and that we could do anything that we set our minds to. Hey, if the teachers and parents that told us that didn't want us stealing stuff, then maybe they should've changed their wording on things!

We started off relatively slowly at first – one vehicle could set you up for quite a lot of cash for a pretty long period of time, depending on the buyer. Kenny always had an eye for pickup trucks, as growing up his Dad always had one sitting around the driveway. As for myself, I was more of a car guy – nothing too fancy, and ones that were easier to break into.

I should've figured that they'd upgrade the locks on the newer versions of the cars…

The job went horribly. I was supposed to meet Kenny at the drop-off with a 2008 Honda Civic, but I never made it out of the parking lot. Somebody spotted me; knocked me over the head out cold with some kind of blunt object. The next thing I knew I was sitting in a dark police interrogation room, not unlike the ones you'd see on TV. The only light in there was some lamp they had projected directly at my face.

That's when fucking Shane Walsh came in to talk to me… God, I can't stand him. I'm pretty sure if it was still allowed, he would just toss all of the prisoners off a cliff so that the jail cells could be freed up…

This is how it went down: I was getting charged with at least four accounts of grand theft auto, since they somehow found out about some of the other stolen vehicles that I'd "recovered". He told me that I was facing a prison sentence no matter what, but that it'd be reduced to just one year if I told them about my accomplice.

Basically, I had to rat out my best friend. The one phone call I was allowed (confidential, as far as I was aware), I made to him. This is how it went…

"_Ken… you there, man?"_

"_Yeah, dude! Did you go to get a fucking ice cream cone or something?! The client bailed on you! We just lost like 20K for that thing!"_

"_Kenny…"_

"_We're in deep shit here, man. I figure that we'll just try again next week, but you need to be prepared! We can't half-ass anything this – "_

"_KENNY!" I interrupted, looking side to side in case anyone was listening in. Luckily, it seemed that I was alone. "…I'm busted."_

"…_what?"_

"_You heard me."_

"_God damn it… Jesus, Lee! What are they booking you for?" he asked, sounding terrified of the repercussions. _

_Sighing heavily, I pause a moment before answering him. "Grand theft auto…" I told him, looking out the window at the free, happy people outside. Just knowing that I wouldn't be able to join them made me sick. "…they want me to bring my partner down, too."_

_For one split second, I thought that the line had gone dead and that he bolted out of the area. Thankfully, though, he didn't. Best friends don't bail on each other like that._

"_Fucking hell…" he finally said, no doubt going over what this all would mean for him._

_I started thinking about what would happen for Kenny, too._

_How would Katjaa cope without having her husband around to help look after things? It certainly would've been a heck of a lot harder than usual, that was for sure. I couldn't take Duck's father away from him at that age… I wouldn't. Kenny had a hell of a lot more to lose than I did._

_So, making up my mind right then and there, I hung up the phone and accepted the full indictment. I was going to rot in prison for two years._

And I did – this is the first time in two years that I've seen Kenny, and he has the audacity to try and pull this shit on me? Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt, but still… after all that time, a part of me wanted to just get away from the so called "New Man" that was Kenny. He claims that he's cleaned up his act somewhat, though his relationship with Katjaa is somewhat of a strained one right now. Better than my relationship – that ended a long time ago.

Listening to Kenny ramble on about his life as we sit at my dinner table, I try to look at the positive side. I too can change; start fresh, and make a new life for myself. Hell, maybe I can try and take up a new hobby – gardening was actually pretty relaxing for me, surprisingly enough.

But I'm not ready for the most out of the blue, completely crazy idea that my old friend throws at me next.

"So, what do you think about joining the police force?"

_AN: Hey guys! So, yeah, school's starting up for me, so the updates won't be nearly as regular as they were for my other stories. Nevertheless, I'm going to try my best for this one, and hopefully I can think of some good ideas that you guys will like. And yeah, I know, ex-criminals don't make the best cops, but I thought it'd be good for some laughs so I'm sticking to my guns on this one. Anyway, please drop a review and I'll try to write some more when I get the time! Thanks!_


	2. Let's be cops

"Kenny, I want you to answer this as honestly as possible: are you on crack right now?" I ask him, completely and utterly dumbfounded at his logic. "'Cause if you are, then that just _might _justify for you suggesting that."

"I'm serious, man!" he affirms while nodding his head. "What better way to clean up than to uphold the law? We'd kick ass at it!"

"I don't know if you've noticed this, Kenny, but… WE'RE CRIMINALS!"

"Exactly!" he boasts, chuckling at how agitated I'm getting. "Who better to catch the criminals than the people who used to _be _the criminals? We know every trick in the book – distractions, picking locks, how to grab money from the register, how to jack cars without getting caught… well, I know that part, anyways."

"You're pushing your luck here, Kenneth."

"Right, right, that was low. Sorry," he mumbles, fumbling his words around like an embarrassed little child. "But we'd be the best they've got!"

"What's your angle here?" I ask him, folding my arms across my chest and raising an eyebrow. "First, you randomly show up at my door after not having talked to me in two whole years, and now all of a sudden you want to be a _cop?_"

"Lee… we could be set for life here, man. No more worrying about looking over our shoulder, no more having to lie to my wife about where I'm going half the time…"

He pauses after the last part, allowing me to register what he's saying. Kenny wants to make his family life work again. It's admirable of him, I'll give him that much. If there's one thing that hasn't changed about my old friend, it's his undying loyalty to the people he cares about.

I used to think he cared that much about me, too.

"I got fired, you know," he explains sadly, with me widening my eyes in shock. "Surprised? You shouldn't be, really. With you gone, I couldn't pull off any more heists, and when the money started drying up, I resorted to stealing fish from the warehouse that I worked at."

"Jesus…" I breathe out, trying to imagine how desperate the man became.

"Yeah… anyway, they caught me one time and fired my ass the next morning. I haven't been able to find full-time work in about four months now," Kenny sighs, looking rather ashamed at the whole thing. Another attribute about Kenny is his incredible pride; about himself, about Duck and Kat, but also about his fishing work. I went with him on his boat on more than a few occasions, and the guy always seemed… calmer out on the waves. I can't really explain it, but the boat would sort of soothe him in a way.

Drumming my fingers along the table, I stand up to make the two of us a cup of coffee. I know that I had some packets of the stuff laying around here somewhere.

"So, what do you think?" he asks as I turn the coffee maker on. I watch as the boiling hot water slowly starts trickling down into the pot; making whooshing sounds every once in a while that cause me to jump. I forgot how busted this thing was.

"I think you're crazy," I comment dryly, pulling out two mugs and waiting some more. "But that's nothing new."

"Lee, I'm being serious here."

"Who ever said you weren't?" I question, trying not to burn myself as I pour some of the caffeinated beverages into our mugs; setting them down on the table with a small clank. "Of all the dumb ideas you've had Kenny… this might not actually be the worst."

"So is that a yes?" he asks, hope brimming in his moustache.

"I'll think about it."

"That always means yes!"

"I said I'd think about it," I correct him, shaking my head in exhaustion as we clank our mugs together. Why do I get myself into these crazy situations?

…..

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!" Shane laughs along with his buddies, barely able to control themselves as Kenny and I stand there feeling like a bunch of losers. Even Rick's having a tough time keeping a neutral composure, but at least he _is _trying.

"Told you this would go badly…" I murmur, nudging Kenny with my elbow. He ignores me and continues to narrow his gaze at Shane.

"Oh my god… ha ha ha! Are you two knuckleheads actually serious right now?" he asks, wiping away a few tears that have formed in his eyes from chuckling so hard. "Is this some kind of prank y'all are pulling? If so, then I think I owe you folks a drink!"

"We've got just as much a right as anyone else," Kenny repeats firmly, placing both of our resumes on Rick's desk. "What's the harm in giving us a shot?"

"That's what we're afraid of! You shooting one of us!" chimes in one of the officers near the back, as the others murmur in agreement.

I gaze over at Rick, who's reading through the resumes while the rest of them are jeering at us. I wonder what his thought process is right now. I'm actually surprised that he's bothered to look over them at all, but maybe he figures that I'm trying to make a comeback here.

With one impressed nod from him, that's pretty much all the confirmation I need.

"You two walking in here in the first place was a real ballsy move," Shane tells us, more so to me than Kenny, "especially considering your track record. But hiring you would just be turning this police force into a joke, nothing more. Criminals as cops… don't make me laugh!"

"Pretty sure that I'm clean here, asswipe," Kenny retorts before I can stop him, causing me to facepalm. We don't need them to hate us any more than they already do! "And Lee's a free man! So don't go calling me a crook unless you've got the fucking evidence to back it up!"

"I'd watch your mouth if I were you, redneck," Shane barks back venomously, glaring at him with enough malice to send a shiver down my spine.

Kenny's not easily intimidated, though.

"Maybe if you did your job better, then you wouldn't need to go threatening guys like me all the time!"

"I ain't gonna stand for this shit! You'll be one of us as soon as I'm buried six feet under!"

"ENOUGH!" Rick bellows, causing everyone to shut up immediately and turn their attention towards him. Once he's certain that everyone's focused, he begins again. "Look, I know that you guys probably want nothing to do with these two gentlemen, but the fact is that we're short-staffed enough as it is."

"Rick," Shane's complexion whitens as he realizes what's going on, "come on, man. You can't be serious here…"

"They've got some useful skills here, Shane," Rick acknowledges, getting a supportive and thankful nod from me. "That's why I'm going to hire them – "

"YES!" Kenny chants, fist pumping the air in victory.

"- as interns."

"WHAT?!"

"Kenny, shut the fuck up…" I tell him aggressively, sending him a sharp look. "Just stop talking, alright?!"

At my scolding tone, Kenny reluctantly obliges, muttering something about how we weren't in our twenties anymore. To be perfectly honest, this was more than I thought we'd get, so I'm actually pretty satisfied. We'll just have to work our way up the ladder.

And as long as we don't have to clean toilets or photocopy all of their junk, then I'm good.

"You need to get used to the environment before going out into the field," Rick explains, sitting on the edge of his desk as everyone else disperses. Shane shoots us both a death glare before huffing out a sigh, shaking his head and telling Rick that he's going on patrol. "Look, I'll be totally honest here: you're not well-liked around this place."

"How could you tell?" Kenny jokes sarcastically, giving one guy the finger when he shot him a dirty look.

"Ignore him," I say to the sheriff, "What did you want us to do?"

Beckoning for the two of us to follow, we walk down a the corridor and pass by many disconcerted police officers who'd rather toss us both into jail than have to work with us. I think we're gonna get along great with these people.

"I'm gonna have Doug here show you how to work with the police scanners. He's a real tech savvy kind of guy," Rick explains, gesturing to a dorky-looking man with a green shirt, khaki shorts, socks and sandals. "Doug, these two are gonna be working in your department for a while, alright? Just show them the ropes a little bit."

Twirling the chair a few inches to look at us out of the corner of his eye, Doug sizes us up before nodding quickly and returning to his computer. Not much of a social guy, I see.

"I'll fill you two in on what goes on around here soon enough. But this is your trial run, understand?" Rick tells us, a warning tone reminding us that this is a serious affair. "Don't make me regret this – if things go screwy, then it's my ass on the line. Just follow the rules and you should do okay here."

"Thank you, Rick. Really, you didn't have to do this for us," I say to my friend, engaging in a firm handshake. It's funny how just four days ago he had driven me out of the prison and back into my home. "We'll make it up to you somehow, that's a promise."

"Well, if things go smoothly then you shouldn't have to," he smiles before patting me on the shoulder and returning to his office.

Taking a seat on either side of Doug, we pretty much twiddle our thumbs waiting for him to give us some kind of assignment. Unfortunately, we sit like this for at least five minutes and Doug doesn't even move his eyeballs away from his own screen. As I take a look over his shoulder, I scratch my head in puzzlement as I try making sense of what he's dealing with. Various… codes, I'm guessing they are? Well, whatever he's messing around with, I haven't got the faintest idea of what it is.

"Uh… Doug?" I ask finally, tapping him on the shoulder softly as to try and not disturb him too much. "Did you have something you needed us to do?"

Getting a small, wicked grin, Doug mysteriously tells us that he'll be right back and leaves the two of us wondering what in the hell is going on.

"What the fuck's the deal here?" Kenny questions, still seemingly pissed that he didn't get to be a cop straight away. Between you and me, I just think that he wanted to shoot something. "We weren't meant for sitting in front of a god-damn computer screen! We should be out there learning what the patrol officers do! I mean, what's he even doing over here? Doesn't seem like any police scanner I've ever seen…"

"Uh, Kenny?" I advise him, watching as he moves the mouse around and starts clicking on random things. "I don't think I'd touch that if I were you."

"Why? What's the worst that could happen? 

Suddenly, the whole screen flickers for a moment before just going blank entirely; leaving the two of us looking absolutely terrified.

"Dude… what the fuck did you do…"

"How was I supposed to know that would happen?!" he retorts, pressing random buttons quickly in a vain attempt to restore power to the device. "Oh shit, man – this is bad! This is really, really, really bad!"

"No shit it's bad!" I reply, chuckling as he fumbles around like the tech-illiterate man he is. "We're gonna get fired already! As fucking interns!"

As Kenny pushes a few more buttons, the screen goes back to life, revealing the desktop along with several alerts that some people have called about a robbery in the downtown area.

"Jackpot!" Kenny cheers, grinning like a tool as he whistles for another officer, Omid, to come look at what he's discovered. "Should we get on that? Sounds like there's some trouble."

"Nice job, newbies, but _I'll _get on that," Omid concludes, motioning for his girlfriend (also a cop) Christa to come along with him. I'm pretty sure that I heard her mention something about how completely hopeless the two of us were, but I'll let it slide.

Besides, it's not as if she's wrong.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Doug yells out, shoving Kenny out of the way and trying desperately to recover what he had on screen before our two dumb asses showed up.

Kenny, looking indignant, stands up and prepares to give a scolding that he'd most likely do to Duck.

"While you were off doing your hacking or whatever that was," he replies, nodding towards me as a sort of acknowledgement of some kind, "these folks called for our help! Looks to me as though we just saved your ass from getting the boot out of here!"

I have to restrain myself from laughing right now. Kenny (a fresh intern) is lecturing the guy who actually works here about how he was slacking off from his job. The irony hasn't been lost on me, as I watch Doug's cheeks burn red – partly embarrassment, partly rage that he'd even go that far.

"Just… gah! Here, take this list and don't open it until you get out of the parking lot," he instructs, tossing us a pair of keys that cause us to practically squeal in excitement. "Take the car in the second parking spot outside, and don't scratch it! Hopefully you won't screw this up, too!"

"I so get first dibs!" I call out as the two of us race outside. Kenny chuckles but concedes defeat as I reach the driver's side of the police cruiser, waiting for me to unlock the door for him.

"This is fucking awesome!" Kenny remarks, pulling out two pairs of sunglasses before handing one of them to me. "Here, I bought these for pretty cheap when you agreed to come with me for this job. Figure that we might as well look the part if we're actually going to _be _officers one day."

"How many cops do you know that where sunglasses?" I question, putting them on and backing up out of the lot.

"Well… there's two more now than there were before!"

"You're an idiot."

…..

"I wonder what he's got in here…" Kenny muses as I wait for the light to turn green. He's poking around various compartments within the car, and knowing how easily he misplaces things, I'm starting to worry. "Think he's got any cool gadgets or anything?"

"Come on, man! Focus! What'd that note say?"

"It said that lee Everett's a buzzkill…" he mutters sarcastically, unfolding the letter and groaning with rage. "Fucking hell! This is such bullshit!"

"What? What is it?" I ask him, wanting to know what all the fuss is about. Instead of telling me, however, he simply hands me the scrunched-up paper and rubs his eyes tiredly; muttering something about not having time for this shit.

Frowning, I try to make sense of all this chicken scratch that is Doug's writing – man, he should really just stick to typing his things out.

Once I finally do manage to decipher his foreign language, I bang my hand so hard on the steering wheel that the lights go off on top of the cruiser; causing several of the surrounding cars to pull over to the side of the road.

"GOD DAMN IT!" I yell out roughly, pulling a U-turn despite it being against the law in this particular section of road.

…..

"Will that be everything for you today, sir?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Okay, your total will be $45.00, please drive to the first window."

This has been our third stop now, and we've still got one more to go after this. Jesus, of all the bullshit moves Doug could've thrown at us, this one has to be the douchiest by far. Making us buy their coffee and donuts… Why can't they do this nonsense themselves?

"Who's left on the list?" I ask Kenny, suddenly not as thrilled as I was to be driving the police cruiser.

Scanning it over carelessly, Kenny grunts and says that it's just two people we don't know and Doug. Shane apparently doesn't eat donuts (obviously, since he could probably bench press me with one arm), and Rick doesn't seem to know about what we're doing right now.

Narrowing my gaze, I silently give the lady a $50 bill and tell her to keep the tip for herself. Kenny tells me to stop hitting on the younger ladies, but I smack him upside the head and tell him to eat Doug's donut.

"Why?" he asks me, examining the treat in his hands like a foreign object.

Smirking, I put the alarm bells on again in order to get the rest of the traffic out of the way.

"I don't think Doug needs any more of those," I comment dryly as the two of us laugh and start drifting in the car along some of the side roads. Nobody explicitly said when we had to be back by, so I think that it's time to see what this puppy can do.

We might just be a bunch of lowly interns right now, but true to Kenny's word, things might not be so bad after all.

Well, as long as we survive the hate of the rest of our coworkers, that is.


	3. Settling back in

Jesus… what a long day.

It was bad enough that everyone (besides Rick) immediately warranted a death wish on Kenny and I the moment we got hired as interns, but the fact that after we delivered their food, they almost immediately sent us on our way with more menial tasks. Car washes, picking up police banquet tickets… I swear that I thought Kenny was going to have a mental breakdown.

Pulling into the driveway, I decide to get changed into a navy blue t-shirt and some gym shorts to go out for a bit of a jog. Hopefully some fresh air will be able to ease my troubled mind – I need all the ease that I can get.

I never used to appreciate this street that I live on; perhaps because of all the shit that was going on in my life. Hard to believe as it may seem, stealing things for money was stressful work, not to mention the fact that I was pretty much ostracized from my immediate family (other than my brother, who visited me once every three months or so). Every night was a shouting match in my household, and on several occasions a neighbour would have to come knocking on the door to make sure that we weren't being murdered in the house or something awful like that. It got so bad one time that Clementine could hear me yelling at my ex-wife from her spot on the sidewalk… I felt like kicking myself when I saw her worried expression. That kid's one of a kind, that's for sure.

Speaking of which…

"Hi, Lee!" she says cheerfully, waving to me as I jog past her house. Quickly stopping, I place my hands on my knees and exhaustedly wave back to her; with the young child giggling at me. I'm not in the same shape that I used to be.

"How's it going, kiddo?" I huff out, managing a smirk as I look down into her amber eyes. She's so full of adventure and life that it just brings out the best of me at times. Ed and Diana are lucky to have such a great kid. "What'cha up to today?"

"I'm making chalk drawings!" she announces happily, gesturing to her masterpieces on the driveway. "See? It's me on the Empire State building!"

"Now that's really something," I smile, giving her two big thumbs up in support. "Now all you need is King Kong up there and you're all set."

"Who?"

"Nevermind, you're probably too young for that sort of thing," I correct myself, remembering that she's only eight years old. Although, something tells me that she's different from the other kids her age – within that young body is a kid wise beyond her years. Noticing that I've paused to look at her work some more, she holds out one of her chalk pieces towards me.

"Wanna colour with me?"

"Naw, you go on ahead," I tell her, stretching my back out as I regain my breath. "I've gotta get in shape for my job soon, so I've gotta run."

"What's your job?" she asks inquisitively, not letting me leave until she has all the answers. This kid's as stubborn as a damn mule!

"Oh that's right, I forgot to tell you," I exaggerate, looking really excited as if it's the most interesting thing in the world. "Kenny and I signed up for the police force the other day."

"Really? That's so cool!" Told you she'd be excited about it. "Have you caught any bad guys yet? Did you get a police car? Oh! Did you get a hat with it?"

"Ha ha, none of that yet, Clem. It'll come in a while," I explain, walking over and tipping her hat over her face. "I don't think it looks nearly as stylish as yours, though."

"My dad gave it to me," she beams proudly, adjusting it back so that it sits properly atop her noggin. "Well, good luck! You should come over for supper some time!"

"I'll make sure of it," I smile back, waving to her as I proceed to jog again.

Now that I think about it, I barely know Ed or Diana hardly at all. I mean, sure they've been my neighbours since before Clem was even born, but with all the shit I was doing I never got around to actually befriending them. Ed's invited me out to go golfing a few times over the years, but I never took him up on it.

Maybe I should change that.

As I proceed to round the corner, little do I know that Clem has started to draw a police officer right next to her on the Empire State building.

…..

Sweaty and out of breath, I stop on the sidewalk for a minute after having run around several blocks in the beating summer sun. Christ… I haven't run like this in a long fucking time, but if I want this to work out then my overall fitness needs to improve substantially.

Kenny and I worked out a little routine of sorts: every Monday to Friday after work, we'll do either cardio or muscle training while taking the weekends off to relax and do what we want. It's a fairly reasonable system, but it's always the hardest when you're first starting – no more late-night cookie munches for me anymore! From what I hear, Katjaa and Duck are completely supporting this change in Kenny's lifestyle, and Duck even wanted to try it out with him. This was mostly just to try and be like his old man – at least until he got bored and wanted to do something else. I'm pretty sure the kid's got ADD… But at least their family's slowly starting to rebuild. Kenny loves his wife and kid to death, that's for certain.

Walking the last thirty seconds back to my house, I frown my brow in confusion. Something is very wrong here – I don't remember owning a Cadillac, so why is it parked in the…

Oh shit.

Racing to the front door, I swing it open and look upon the last person I expected (or wanted) to see again.

Donna – my ex-wife.

"I heard you were home… thought I'd pay you a visit," she explains, leaning against the counter as she jingled her keys around. "Didn't mean to barge in but you were out."

"What do you want, Donna?"

"Is that any way to say hello?" she tells me, cocking her head to the side with a smirk. "After all we've been through together, too. I heard that the little jailbird got set free, so I wanted to see how you were adjusting to things."

"I've got better things to do than sit here and take more of your shit," I snarl, going into the bathroom to wash my face a little bit. Hopefully some cold water splashed on me will help me clear my head, and possibly prevent the nervous breakdown that I'm about to have. What could she possibly be doing back here again? We ended our marriage three years ago, haven't spoken to each other since, and now she suddenly shows back up unannounced? What the hell's going on?

"C'mere, baby," she tries to be flirtatious, failing miserably as her words come out slurred. Her breath reeks of alcohol. "What do you say we go for another round? You and me… I want you, baby."

"You're drunk," I say firmly, trying as gently but firmly as I can to get her hands off of me. I don't want her to try anything.

"So whaaaaattt?" she complains, composing herself against the doorframe. Did she drive over here like this?! "Come on! You always wanted to have a baby, didn't ya? You were always good with the kids…"

"We didn't have any kids," I sigh, pulling her phone off the counter and looking for the taxi's number. Looking to the wine cabinet, I huff out of annoyance as I see an empty bottle laying carelessly upon the floor. Well, at least she was smart enough not to drink and drive.

Doesn't make up for everything else she did, though.

"Why'd we break up in the first place, huh?" she asks tiredly; twirling a strand of her hair around her finger. "Sureeeeee, we argued, but who doesn't? Anyone who says otherwise is a lying fuckhead!"

"You cheated on me with a 26 year old named Nick."

"That bastard?!" she scoffs, swinging her hand out as if it didn't even matter. "He was a punk! A little whiner who could barely tie his own shoes together! He was a nobody!"

"And yet you still cheated on me with him," I mutter before asking the operator to fetch a cab ride for my address. "You can't stay here."

"Come on, Lee! Don't be a stick in the mud!"

Closing my eyes and breathing deeply, I try to remain calm as I figure out how to get through the next five minutes without blowing this up into an argument again. It's hard to believe, but I loved this woman once – we were pretty happy together, and Kenny was even the best man at my wedding fourteen years ago.

But that was back before all the shouting matches, infidelity and trust issues. That was before Donna found out what it was that I was doing every other night. That was before I found that little shitbird Nick sitting in my bed making out with my beautiful wife.

That was before I beat the shit out of Nick and left him bloody and bruised in the street.

Yes, I'll admit – I was at fault just as much when our relationship didn't work out. But why on earth would she cheat on me like that? If she wanted to end it, then she could've just left! Instead, things got messier and messier up until the divorce – all that legal stuff is just so that our god-damned lawyers could make more god-damned money. It was a farce, and I was still broken up. I had thought to myself: this literally can't get any worse.

Then I got arrested – that really put my life into perspective.

"Cab's here," I tell her, carrying her purse and practically forcing her out the door. "I would say that it was nice of you to come visit, but then I'd be lying."

"Fuck you," she slurs out, giving me the finger as I escort her to the back seat of the taxi. "We could've had it all, Lee! I was willing to take a chance again! We could've started over again, and you would've been happy! But noooooo, you just toss me aside like you did before! Well fine then! Go to hell, Lee! I don't need you!"

"Bye, Donna."

"FUCK YOU!" she swears, with me placing a twenty in the driver's pocket for being such a good sport about all of this. He's gonna need it.

Figuring that I'd just drop her car off at her place later tonight, I groan and rub my face with my hands in utter exhaustion. I could've gone my whole life without that display.

"Everything alright?"

Turning to the right in surprise, I immediately blush red from embarrassment as Ed comes over to me worriedly.

"Gosh," he continues, shaking his head in disbelief as I remain silent. "Haven't heard a commotion like that in at least three years! That wasn't…?"

"Donna… yeah," I explain sadly, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly. "Sorry about that – she, uh…"

"Wanted to get back together?"

"It's that obvious?" I ask in wonder, raising my eyebrows at how predictable the two of us could be at times. "But… yeah. That's what happened, but I said no. I don't need any more of that in my life, I don't think."

"Good on you, Lee. I mean it – we all think you're better off," Ed smiles sadly, patting my shoulder in a reassuring gesture.

Ed's a pretty stalky guy, with broad shoulders and a bit of a gut – nothing too concerning for him though, I'm sure. He's a pleasant man, though, and I'm actually kind of envious about how well his family life is going. Envious, but really happy for him at the same time. They deserve true happiness – I'm not so sure that I've earned that right just yet.

"So, Clem tells me that you've joined Georgia State!" he changes the subject, nodding and smiling with approval. "That's so awesome, Lee! Especially after you were wrongly accused and all – "

"Ed…" I interrupt, shaking my head sadly as I begin to confess my crimes, "everything they charged me with – theft, destruction of property, all of it – it was all true. I did it, and I paid the consequences. I'd take it back if I could but… I can't. It's going to live with me for the rest of my life, so the least I can do is try to redeem myself."

Averting his gaze, Ed lets out a sigh as he processes this information; leading to a comforting silence as the sun slowly disappears. That does it – he's gonna want to move his family as far away as possible from the monster that lives down the street, and warn everyone else that I'm the boogeyman. I'll be ostracized and cast out of my neighbourhood, along with the police force.

"That doesn't have to make you a bad man," he says suddenly, causing me to blink in surprise. "You're a down to earth, responsible and respectable man, Lee. I see it, my wife sees it, and, probably most importantly, Clementine sees it. You've done alright by us, and if you ever need anything, just let us know."

"Thanks, Ed. Means a lot," I tell him, shaking his hand as he proceeds to walk back towards his house. Biting my lip and getting an idea, however, I suddenly stop him.

"Hey, Ed?"

Turning his head back towards me, he bears a puzzled look.

"What say you and me go golfing sometime this weekend?"

"You've got it."

After making the preparations and climbing into my bed to watch some late-night TV, I smile to myself, having almost forgotten about the whole ex-wife debacle. Not entirely, though – it still sits in the back of my mind somewhere.

But so far, I'd say things are working out pretty well. Now if only I could decide on which thing to choose – hat or no hat with the officer's uniform?


	4. On patrol

_One month later…_

"Well boys, today's the big day," Rick says to us, patting us on the back as he walks by. "I need you two to go on patrol – drive around, look for any suspicious activity, that kind of thing. I've seen what you can do, so I'm counting on you to get it done out there. Got it?"

"So does that mean…" Kenny cuts himself off; a hopeful glimmer shining in his eyes. Smirking, Rick nods as Kenny claps his hands together in triumph.

Finally! After having spent a month doing all of these training exercises, doing everyone's dirty work and just being overall lackeys, we actually get to do something productive for a change. Maybe now I won't have to listen to people's jeering remarks behind my back anymore… okay, I don't expect Shane to treat me any better just yet, but it's still a huge step for the two of us.

"Lee…" Kenny calls over to me, looking as though he just won the lottery, "we did it. We actually fucking did it. Do you know what this means?"

"We're cops!"

"Fucking A we are!" he chuckles heartily, causing me to do the same at how much we've accomplished in such little time. "Holy shit… I can't even believe it, man. This is so god-damn unreal! It's insane! I've… I've gotta tell Kat and Duck! We need to celebrate, man!"

"Ahem…" Rick coughs, giving him a stern look.

"Yeah… we should, umm, probably do our jobs first though."

"That'd be a good idea."

…

Decked out in our new beige uniforms, we hop into the police car and head out; keeping our eyes and ears open for any sort of trouble. Kenny flips through the frequencies on the police scanner while I drive, but the both of us are so giddy right now that we can't seem to control ourselves.

"Man, this is living!" Kenny sighs contently, watching the sidewalk as we pass down rows of suburban houses. "Out on the open road, keeping the cities safe from – "

"People like us?" I joke, earning a bit of a glare from the older man.

"That ain't who we are anymore, man. Told you that I'd make it up to you," he grimaces as he's reminded of our criminal past. I admire his optimism, but that isn't something that's just gonna go away. It'll probably haunt me until the day I die.

"_Lee? Are you there? Pick up, Lee," _Doug's frizzled voice comes over the radio. Thankfully that whole computer incident blew over in a hurry, and we actually managed to become fast friends with each other. In fact, every time somebody brings up our first day, we sit back on it and just laugh.

"I hear you, Doug. What's up?"

"_Have you guys found anything yet?"_

"Nothin' so far," Kenny tells him, shaking his head in disappointment. I think Kenny's got an urge to arrest someone… "Tell me you've got a present for us, kid."

"_Well… there's something going down at the high school, and all the other officers aren't available. It's a fight most likely, but do you guys think you could check it out?"_

"Copy that, Doug. We'll get right on it," I reply, hearing the other end of the line die off. Well, it might not be as glorious as we may have pictured it at first, but it needs to be done.

"Start off small, right?" Kenny asks, as I shrug my shoulders. "Better than nothin' I guess."

…..

_BAD BOYS, BAD BOYS! WHAT YA GONNA DO?! WHAT YA GONNA DO WHEN THEY COME FOR YOU?!_

Parking in front of Stone Mountain High School and turning the music off, Kenny and I step out of the police car and examine the scene. Nothing too out of the ordinary at this side, but there seems to be a bit of a crowd gathering out in the field a little ways off. If you listen closely enough, you can faintly here the sound of some people chanting… Ben? I guess that this Ben character's somehow in the middle of it.

"Ready, partner?" I ask him, turning to see Kenny holding out a pair of sunglasses at his side. The redneck from Florida decided to be the one to wear the hat, but between you and me, I think he looks a bit stupid.

"Yes…" he says dramatically, putting on the shades like the guy from CSI Miami, "…I am."

"Cut it out, Kenny."

Sprinting over to the scene, teenagers outside the circle quickly widen their eyes in fear as we approach. Huh, funny how much more intimidating you become when you've got the uniform on.

"Get out of here! Break it up!" Kenny yells, ushering the kids to go find something better to do. "Let's go! Get a move on if you don't want to get arrested!"

Smooth, Kenny. Real smooth.

"Hey, hey!" I yell to the two combatants, with me getting a fist to the face by accident as I tackle this really scrawny-looking, tall, brown-haired kid with some sort of high school jacket on. He looks as though he's ready to tear the other guy's head off, and by the looks of things he nearly would have if we didn't step in. Pinning him down, I see that Kenny's already ushered the other guy into the school to get treated by the nurse.

As for me, I've got the handcuffs at the ready.

"Ugh! GET OFF ME!" he yells, trying his best to escape. Unfortunately for him, I've got the size to easily subdue him.

"You really don't want to test me right now, boy," I say to him, locking him in the cuffs as I pick him up by his jacket and start escorting him back to the car; watching as Kenny comes back outside. "Be a dear and open the back, would you?"

Stuffing him inside, I quickly shut the back door and climb into the front seat, praying to god that he won't try to strangle me from back there or anything – even though there's a gate separating the two of us, you can't ever be too careful.

"Psst… Lee?" Kenny whispers, glaring at the teen before turning towards me. "Should we give him the whole, "You have the right to remain silent" thing?"

"I don't think that really applies this time," I remark, glancing in the rear-view mirror as I drive back to the station. "Wanna tell me, son, why you were beating that kid to a pulp back there?"

"Not really," he bites back sarcastically, even though I can tell that he's terrified. It's not every day that you get arrested – he's probably in a state of utter panic right now.

"Listen shitbird," Kenny snarls, calming down a little as I put my hand on his shoulder. "Don't make this any worse on yourself. What's your name, and why were you fighting?"

"It's… Ben. Ben Paul," he sighs, admitting defeat. "And that asshole had been picking on my best friend, Travis, for months. He bullied the both of us and then… I don't know. I just lost it, I guess."

Nodding silently, a part of me thinks that maybe this kid isn't the bad apple that I had originally perceived him to be. Standing up to bullying… if that's true, then I'll admit that it was a pretty admirable thing to do. Admirable, but stupid.

"Just find a teacher or guidance councillor to sort that shit out next time, alright?" I sigh, running my hand through my hair. Hmm… maybe this area between good and bad is more grey than I had previously thought.

"Am I going to jail?" he asks, quivering in fear in the back seat.

"Not this time," I explain to him before Kenny can voice his own opinion (I know what he would say). "We're going to drop you off at the station, and then you're going to call your parents to come pick you up, understand? And don't let us catch you again."

"Okay… thanks, I guess…"

Looking over to Kenny, I can tell that he's trying not to burst his gasket. Chuckling softly, I lightly hit him on the arm and tell him to lighten up a little bit.

"What'd you think? That we'd be sending folks to prison every single time?"

"Hmph."

"You're unbelievable," I laugh, parking in front of the station as we escort Ben inside. As soon as he gets a look at Shane when he walks in, he silently begs me not to leave him in the same room as him. Maybe that'll teach him not to get into fights next time.

"Nice work fellas," he snidely remarks. I've noticed though that his jokes have become less threatening and more teasing. "Are you gonna go take down some girl scouts next?"

"If we're coming for you, Shane," Kenny bites back, folding his arms across his chest, "then we'll let you know beforehand."

…

"Why the fuck did we get the high school kids _again_?!" Kenny complains, rolling his eyes as Doug finishes radioing us.

The rest of the day leading up to tonight was pretty uneventful, seeing as how we didn't even really need to leave the car. It seemed that the city was pretty clean today, at least in our area. We still haven't been to the more scuzzy downtown areas yet, but from what I heard it can get pretty dangerous – especially at night. But that's not our priority at the moment.

"They're college kids," I correct, not having to search for the house number to see which one's the problem. "Frat party by the looks of things – noise complaint from one of the neighbours. Who are we supposed to meet up with first again?"

Looking down at his notebook, Kenny scans through the names until his eyes widen as he comes across the right one. "Lilly…" he whispers, just loud enough for me to hear it.

"For real?" I ask, not believing my ears. It's been way too long, and if she remembers when Kenny robbed her dad… "Lilly Caul? Like, the girl we went to school with?"

"That's the one…"

"Ha ha! Oh, this is rich! She's sure as hell gonna be happy to see you!" I exclaim, chuckling as Kenny shrinks down in the seat. "You'd better hope that Larry doesn't answer the door!"

Pulling up to the side of the curb, the two of us can hear the blaring music even from our stance in the car. Kenny seems _extremely _nervous right now.

"Umm… how's about you take this one, pal?"

"Nope – we've gotta do this together."

"_Fuuuuccckkkk…. _Alright, fine. But you need to back me up if she throws the first swing!"

Shaking my head in exasperation, the two of us walk up to the front steps and ring the doorbell, waiting no more than ten seconds for her to arrive.

And hot damn… she's looking mighty fine these days!

"Lee?" she asks in puzzlement, embracing me in a brief hug which I return. "Jesus, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Sure has," I smirk, putting my hands in my pockets as she examines my uniform in disbelief. When she raises an eyebrow, I chuckle heartily and nod my head. "Yep, it's exactly what it looks like."

"Well… at least it's you and not Kenny. Fuck, if he was still with you, I swear…"

"Actually… we're both police officers now," I admit sheepishly, but looking at her in confusion when she doesn't glare at my friend behind me. "Don't you want to clock his face in or something?"

"Clock who's face in? There's nobody with you!"

Immediately turning around, I yell at Kenny and call him a little chicken shit as he sneaks to the back of the fraternity house – not looking at me out of embarrassment.

"He's still as hopeless as ever," Lilly comments, shaking her head in disbelief. "At least you're there to set him straight… if that's what you're trying to do these days."

"Trust me, Lilly," I remark reassuringly, "those high school shenanigans are behind me. Adult ones, too – I've cleared my name."

"_Sure_," she rolls her eyes, a small smirk playing upon her lips as the words roll off her tongue. "Prove it to me, Everett."

"Alright, fine. I will!" I tell her, placing my hands on my hips. "You called about a noise complaint, right? Kenny and I will calm it down, and then you can go back to whatever it was you were doing before."

Preparing to close the door behind her, Lilly stops for a moment before turning back towards me.

"Just don't let Kenny burn their house down, alright? I need my property value to stay up somewhat."

"You've got it, Lilly."

I wave goodbye to her, turn around and prepare to investigate this frat party.

"Oh, and Lee?"

Turning my head back to her door, Lilly nods towards me with a small smile.

"I'm glad you're back… That uniform looks good on you. Just… stay safe, alright?"

"Always."

…

Where the hell did Kenny go?! After not hearing any response after knocking on the front door, I decided that enough was enough and headed out back – hoping that somehow Kenny may have calmed the situation down .

And, of course, this party's out of control.

Beer cans are tossed about carelessly around and inside the pool, cigarette butts litter the grass (they're lucky that they weren't hits of weed), and people are talking so loudly over the roar of the music that they're practically all involved in shouting matches. Picking up some sort of crudely-drawn birthday message, I shine my flashlight on it to see just what this is all about.

_Happy birthday, Luke, you old fuck! We're gonna get you sooooooooo wasted that your friggin' blood will turn into beer! Have a good one, buddy! Let's party hard!_

_Nick_

Not thinking anything of the sender, I place the paper on a beer pong table and bend down slightly so that I can talk to one of the people in the pool. When clearing my throat doesn't work, and tapping on her shoulder just makes her give me the finger, I have to physically tear the couple's lips off of each other. At first they protest obviously, and for a second I think that the big, bald guy with a chewed-up ear is gonna try something (he certainly looks strong enough to hurt me), but he relents and folds his arms across his chest in drunken annoyance.

I decide to try and talk to the redhead he was making out with.

"Is there a Luke here?" I ask loudly, my ears deafening as the bass from inside gets more intense. Great job, Lee. Way to keep your promise to Lilly. "We've got a noise complaint – I need to talk to him."

Seemingly frustrated that the two of them were interrupted, she rolls her eyes and points inside, gesturing to some farm boy who's dancing with a tough-looking girl with really short hair inside. I thank the redheaded girl and wish them a good night before heading in; no doubt in my mind that the two of them have already started kissing each other again. Kids these days!

Opening the sliding door, I almost have to plug my ears due to the noise level. I swear to god, it sounds like a fucking rock concert in here – how can anybody hear themselves think?

Oh, that's right. They're drunk – they aren't thinking.

Patting the farm boy on the arm, he turns around and smiles widely at me; insisting that I immediately share a drink with him and his buddies.

"No, I'm alright. Gotta stay frosty," I explain to him, giving the beer to a random guy with way too many piercings on him. "Are you Luke?"

"That's my name, my good man!" he slurs unintelligibly, twirling the girl around in a circle as the two of them laugh. "Jane, you're the best, seriously! Why… why can't we go out?"

"You're dating Bonnie, wise-guy," she replies, giving him a quick peck on the lips that causes me to widen my eyes in surprise. If he's going out with someone else, then that means… whatever, none of my business.

"We've gotten a noise complaint from some of the neighbours," I explain firmly, placing my hands on my hips in an authoritative stance. "You guys need to turn the music down, or else you're going to have to tell all your little friends here to go home for the night."

Instantly shaking his head, Luke whistles and calls for one of his friends to cut the music. Well, at least the guy's cooperative.

"Thank you; just keep the disturbances to a minimum, alright? I don't want to have to come back here again."

"You should totally chill with us, man!" says an obviously intoxicated man with long, blonde hair and glasses. "Someone give this gentleman a brewskie! Having two cops at the party would be off the _hook!_"

Okay, there's gotta be a rule about offering an alcoholic beverage to an on-duty police officer, isn't there? I mean, that shit just doesn't fly?

…and what does he mean by _two _police officers?

Oh god, Kenny…

How he has managed to get piss drunk within an hour is beyond me, but he's sitting there on the couch talking to some random couple with a newly-opened Budweiser in his hand. Walking towards him, I tower over the couch and calmly wait for him to realize that I'm here.

"So we jacked three cars, a fuck-ton of money from the cash register and bolted! It was intense! I've never seen Lee so scared in his life… Oh! What's up, man?"

"What the fuck are you doing?!" I demand, pulling him up as the couple giggles behind him. "Are you trying to get us fired already?! You were the one who was all gung-ho about this job in the first place!"

"I was just having some fun for a change, dude!" Kenny complains, reluctantly following me as we walk up to the exit. "You should try it sometime…"

"You've gotta grow up, Kenny…" I mutter to him, unlocking the door and heading down the pathway. "Who knows what's gonna happen if you don't do it soon."

Before I leave, I stomp over on the lawn and wait for the tall, skinny bastard to turn around after he's finished puking his guts out.

When Nick the Dick finally finishes, I punch him square in the jaw and walk back towards Kenny, who's sitting there in amazement. When the both of us sit back in the cop car, the ex-fisherman looks at me expectantly.

"I needed that," I tell him bluntly, driving off into the night.

_AN: In case you were wondering, I won't be making Lee pair up with anyone in this story. This fic's more about Kenny and Lee's friendship, along with a side of Lee's relationship with Clem and her parents. You'll see soon enough ;)_


	5. Undercover operatives

_AN: Thank you for all the feedback on this! It's really helping me improve, and it's always encouraging to know that you guys are enjoying it so much._

Honestly, this weekend was one of the most enjoyable ones that I've had in a very long time. Playing golf with Ed on Saturday was such a relaxing experience – there weren't any responsibilities or expectations thrown my way. I was stress-free, and it was completely wonderful.

That's what makes coming into work this morning so much worse.

Typically, I'll be honest, I'm not much of a morning person. Back when I was teaching up at UGA, I used to convince the dean to schedule my classes either late at night or around dinner time – just so that I could get a few extra hours of shut-eye. But when I went to jail, _oh boy._ It was literally a boot camp with how strict they were. Meals were at the same time every single day, and if you missed it… well, you didn't eat. One hour of going outside, and then it was back to your cell. I can't get those two years back, and I certainly don't want to return to that hellhole.

Anyways, as I stroll tiredly into the station, I notice that Kenny's trying his best to avert my gaze. That little stunt must have humiliated him, and he should be humiliated – he's lucky that it was just me with him and not someone higher up.

Then again, the way that I punched Nick wouldn't have looked good either.

"Embarrassed about something, are we?" I calmly ask, taking a seat beside him as I sign myself into the computer. "How odd… that's not like you, Kenny."

"Can it, Everett," he hisses, rubbing the bridge of his nose to relieve his headache. It can't be from a hangover – that would've been on Saturday. "Besides, we've got some _special _meeting or something in a little bit. Need to concentrate."

"What's it about?" I ask, noticing that the others have started walking into the meeting room. We follow suit.

"Damned if I know."

"Is that your new catchphrase or something?" I joke, earning a small smirk from the old man. The two of us take our places and sit next to Omid and Christa, both of whom have come to accept us as one of their own.

After having calmed all the commotion down, Rick begins to address the crowd.

"Alright, I'm gonna keep this brief since we need to start getting to work," he explains, gesturing to Shane and the whiteboard. "Shane here's written down some places we need you guys to investigate when you get a chance… You don't need to do it right away, but we still need some people covering these places."

"What's the problem, chief?" Omid asks, confused as to why we're doing this in the first place.

Rick looks nervously over at Shane, who sighs and rubs a hand through his hair. He seems to do that all the time.

"We've gotten reports of some gang-related activity going on downtown," he remarks, pointing to various areas on the board. But it doesn't make sense – are they seriously telling me that there's a gang holed up near the central banks, the pier and all over the city? "Just be on the lookout – honestly, we don't have much to go on right now. It's not much of a lead at all, I know, but we want to stop this shit from happening before it spreads."

"That's all, folks. Get out there and see what you can dig up," Rick finishes, dismissing the crowd but for some reason walking towards Kenny and I. "Not you two – come with me."

Looking fearfully at my partner in crime… excuse me, I mean _law enforcement_… we nervously get up and follow Rick back to his office.

"If it's about the coffee machine getting busted, I swear to Christ it wasn't me this time!"

"Knock it off, Kenny. This is serious," Rick sighs, motioning for me to close the door behind us.

"What did you need then?" I ask, taking a seat in front of his desk as he goes through a filing cabinet. Did we do something wrong? Man, how could we have fucked something up already?

Tossing the thick folder he was searching for in front of us, Rick gestures to it with his hand; indicating for me to open it up.

Scanning through various pages, I widen my eyes in shock. This guy was infamous in the criminal underground when we were starting out! Murders, drug trafficking, _human _trafficking, thefts, assaults… you name it, he and his group have probably done it.

"William Carver, also known to his buddies as Bill," Rick begins, closing his eyes as if he's had to deal with cases like his a million times over. "The guy's wanted in several states for his crimes, but we never were able to catch him. Still can't, actually."

"Then… why are you showing this to us?" Kenny asks inquisitively, still not wanting to reveal to anyone too much of our past.

"You know why."

"Actually, I don't!" Kenny exclaims, getting slightly worked up about what he's insinuating. "We're just rookies, man! Isn't this stuff for the bigger guys? Like, I don't know, the SWAT team or something?"

"Kenny, calm down," Rick tries, only partially succeeding as Kenny sits back in his seat with his arms folded across his chest. "I'm not insinuating anything… but I hired you two because of your skills – your skills in tracking down criminals like him. I need you two to be detectives for this case."

Hmph… I should've figured that was the case. Why did we not have to go through years of schooling to become police officers like everyone else? Why were we promoted in such a short amount of time? Was that all just to butter us up – to make us feel like we were a part of a team, only to be used for the stuff they couldn't deal with?

…no, that's not it. I know Rick – he's a good man, a friend in fact. He saw that I was trying to set myself straight, and he hired me out of the kindness of his heart. It wasn't just to use us to his advantage, even if our experiences did match up to what they needed. So instead of taking the rash Kenny approach, I close the folder and set it down in my lap.

"Where do we start?" I ask, not revealing anything about Kenny while at the same time keeping the peace.

"You need to do some reconnaissance stuff," he explains, handing us each a small, metal box of some kind. "This stuff is government property, alright? So don't go messing around with it or anything like that. In here's a pair of binoculars, a Taser gun, pepper spray, tear gas, a 5mm pistol with some clips of ammo, and… here."

Taking two black suits of some kind out of the ammunition cabinet, he hands one set to each of us.

"Bulletproof vests," he says as the two of us gasp audibly, "They're just as a precaution, since you never know what could go wrong out there."

"Are you tellin' me that we're gonna get _shot?!_" Kenny asks incredulously, feeling the texture of the suit in his hands. "I mean, these things are cool and all, but god damn, Rick! Where are you sending us?"

Folding his hands together, my gut tells me that we're doing some dangerous shit. My suspicions are confirmed when his gaze lowers to the desk and he sighs.

"You two are our best shot at taking these guys on," he tells us seriously, "There are some warehouses down at the lower end of the city – a lot of cargo and equipment pass into there. We've never had a warrant to go searching through any of them before, since we couldn't dig up any plausible explanations for going in other than the fact that scary-looking people go through there sometimes. So I need you two to go in at night and do some scouting."

"You're telling us to break and enter into a public building?" Kenny puts it into his own words, not believing his ears. Rick says nothing more, and Kenny chuckles in disbelief. "This is illegal, you know that right?"

"None of this leaves the room, alright? Think of it as… an undercover operation."

"Jesus," I huff out, suddenly as weary as Kenny is. I just _got out _of prison, I don't want to go back in! "I suppose there's not much of a choice here, is there?"

"No," he winces, "but it has to be done. Sometimes exceptions need to be made – this is a special circumstance, understand? Carver needs to be brought down for good, and I'm counting on you two to get this done."

"Whatever…" Kenny mutters, huffing before carrying his new equipment with him out the door. Taking one last look towards Rick, I turn around and follow him out.

What a mess we've gotten ourselves into.

…

"Can you believe this shit?!" Kenny hisses, irate as we set ourselves up on top of a roof across the street from the warehouse. I won't lie to you – this place is sketchy as _hell. _"He's using us as bait for a bunch of murdering psychopaths!"

"Kenny, they won't find us as long as we're careful," I remind him, contradicting myself a bit as I tighten the straps on my bulletproof suit. Gloves, helmet, vest, shin pads and shoes – this all feels a bit excessive, but if Rick's nervousness was any indicator, then it might just save our lives. "You're just being paranoid."

"It's my job to be paranoid!" he retorts, holding out the binoculars in front of his eyes. "It kept us alive for all those years, didn't it? Don't tell me that you've forgotten about all those times I saved your ass!"

I want to comment on me taking the blame when we got caught, but he does have a point somewhat. When we first started dealing with stolen vehicles, Kenny seemed to have developed a knack for knowing when situations were turning hairy. More than one time did he pull us out of a job before someone got pissed at us enough to draw their gun.

Hopefully, if all goes according to plan, then we won't have to worry about that this time.

"I think I see something…" Kenny mentions, causing me to grab my own binoculars. "Over near the entrance – see that white pickup truck?"

"Yep," I reply, just as its front lights are turned off and it becomes enshrouded in darkness. "Damn… I saw at least two guys, but we need to go in for a closer look."

"Are you taking the piss?!" Kenny asks, not liking the prospect of getting caught again. "We go in there, and we might as well slit our own throats!"

"I thought you liked a little adventure," I smirk, making my way downstairs as Kenny trudges along behind me.

…

Crouching down in case somebody notices our presence, Kenny and I try to get a good look at what it is exactly we're working with here. From what I can see (which really isn't much due to how dark it is outside), there appears to be a few guys carrying some wooden boxes of some kind, and a couple of guys with machine guns standing guard near them. Where they'd have gotten automatic rifles like that I have no idea, but _that's _certainly not allowed.

The strange thing about this thing, however, is that each time a person carries a box behind one of those gigantic shipping crates, they disappear! Poof – gone, just like that!

"What do you think they've got in there?" I whisper, pointing as another guy goes through.

Shrugging his shoulders, Kenny shifts closer to me in order to get a better take on the situation. "Drugs, weapons, who knows, really?" he answers, opening up his box of supplies for a moment. "Whatever it is, it's definitely not legal. I think we may have just hit the jackpot, Lee."

"Wait… look, there they go!" I remark, with the two of us watching as the guards do one last check before hurrying behind the metal crate along with everyone else. "Shit… we can't fall behind! We need to follow them!"

"It's your funeral…" Kenny sighs, following me as we sprint from cover to cover; holding our pistols at the ready. If you're wondering if we're properly trained to use firearms, well… kind of. I can pull the trigger just fine, but my aim needs a little work, I think. Kenny seems to have his control down pretty well, but he can be a loose cannon at times.

With my hand pressed flatly against the cold steel of the container, I give Kenny until the count of three for us to go out into the open and prepare to shut down whatever operation is going on here. On three, we jump out with weapons raised…

…but there's nobody here!

"The fuck?" I whisper in disbelief, checking the corners for any signs of activity. "What are these guys? Ninjas?"

"Are we getting paid extra for this shit? I mean, we're detectives now too, right? We should be able to sort this kind of thing out," Kenny remarks, looking around for a clue of some kind. "Go on ahead and check the other areas – I'm gonna try and find something over here. If a fucker sneaks up on you… I don't know, shoot him!"

"Great advice, Kenny," I respond sarcastically, shaking my head and wandering off on my own. "When you're finished playing Scooby Doo come find me."

I'm not afraid to admit it: I'm actually nervous as hell. Constantly checking to the left and right of me, I keep thinking that something's going to pop out and shoot me dead. Every creak of the deck as the tide moves up and down underneath it, every bump in the night… it's a wonder that I haven't popped off at least ten rounds by now. Maybe Kenny's apprehensiveness has rubbed off on me.

Frowning in confusion, I walk along the end of the deck and spot what appears to be some barrels. Normally, I wouldn't think anything of it, but I've noticed several spots of oil that have dropped in puddles as I've come along. Pulling out a cell phone that I recently purchased, I shine the light against the barrels and carefully read the labels.

Why are there so many oil drums just sitting out in the open like this? Aren't they worried that someone might try to use them as a weapon?

_Unless that's the point…._

"Jesus…" I breathe out; all the horrible possibilities going through my mind. There's got to be well over three dozen of these things out here. Whatever these guys are planning, it sure as hell isn't for the safety and protection of Atlanta's citizens, that's for certain.

"_Think that the boss'll let up a little bit? He's running our fingers to the fuckin' bone…"_

"_Quit bein' such a pussy, man! With the cash we're getting out of this shit, I'd clean the guys shoes if I had to!"_

"_Hmph, yeah, you probably would do something like that, too. What with you kissing his ass half the time."_

"_Don't make me throw you off the fucking deck! Let's just get the shit and go. How're the oil drums coming along?"_

Oh shit… oh shit… I'm a sitting duck out here! Thinking on my feet, I immediately hop over and hide in between some of the barrels, praying on my life that I won't be spotted. It doesn't matter if I'm a cop – these are gang thugs! They wouldn't think twice about shooting an intruder, _especially _if he's one of the fuzz. I'm not willing to test these vests out just yet.

Eyes wide and breath quick and raspy, I listen in as the thugs make their way over, and cringe when they shine a flashlight in my general direction.

"_Somethin' ain't right here…" _muses one of the gangsters, grunting as he moves the light over to the side. _"Count's off, Vince. There should be more of these things here. Tavia's gonna be pissed…"_

"_You're actually scared of her?" _Vince chuckles, slapping his hand against one of the oil drums close to me. I'm so screwed. _"Tavia's a teddy bear! It's Troy that you've gotta worry about!"_

"_Guess you're right… He and Nate are like a couple of god-damned Nazis with the way they act."_

Their voices slowly become distant, to the point that I can safely come out of my hiding spot. Yuck! This oil is sticking all over me, and as I try to climb out, I slip and fall flat on my face. Thank god Kenny wasn't around to see that.

Shit! Did they find him?!

"Kenny!" I whisper urgently, trying to prevent the thugs from finding me out in the open like this. They better not have killed him! He's my best friend, and I won't let that happen ever!

Besides, how the hell would I be able to explain this to Katjaa and Duck?

Turning a corner, I sigh in relief as I see his dark form hiding behind a pile of construction supplies. Thinking it'd be good for a laugh, I sneak up behind him and roughly yank on his shoulder… not realizing what exactly is in his hand.

_ZZZZZTTT!_

The Taser works its magic almost instantly, knocking me over and sending strong electric impulses throughout my body. I convulse in shock as I'm paralyzed to the ground; limbs desperately trying to fight off this unknown feeling. And holy shit does it hurt!

"Oh fuck!" Kenny exclaims, realizing what he just did as he rushes over and bends down towards me. "God damn it, Lee! Why the hell'd you sneak up on me like that?! Hang in there, buddy – you're gonna be fine! It should wear off soon enough…"

Ohhhh…. I want so badly to kick him square in the balls right now, but I can't control my own bodily functions right now. How is it that these vests are bulletproof but not Taser-proof?! THESE SUITS WERE MADE FOR THE POLICE, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!

"On the bright side," Kenny explains, taking my helmet off as he does the same. The fresh air is helping out a little bit. "I found out where they're hiding – so shake it off, partner, and we'll sneak inside. What do you say?"

Fuck you is what I want to say, but no words can come out. God damn, we're the most uncoordinated cops in the entire fucking district…


	6. Breach and clear

Everything's sore – from my arms, to my head and to my thighs. It all feels incredibly numb, and my heart's racing at a rapid rate after getting over the initial shocks. Twitching my fingers, I sigh in relief as I realize that I at least have control over my body now, and can properly rip on Kenny for temporarily paralyzing me.

"Kenny…"

"Don't even start!" he exclaims, letting out a half chuckle as he helps me to my feet. "I thought you were one of them punks that were stalking us out here, so I panicked. I'm sorry, but you're damn lucky that I didn't have a gun on me."

"We have bulletproof equipment on, genius," I remind him, tapping against the vest a couple of times.

"Yeah, well I don't feel too comfortable trustin' these things with my life – especially where we're goin'."

"What'd you find?" I ask, dusting myself off as Kenny beckons for me to come over.

"Follow me and I'll show ya."

Taking out a flashlight, Kenny shines it on the crate we had previously checked out, and reveals a small little control panel that I had never seen before.

"You'll never believe this," Kenny remarks, punching in the security code that he must have seen done by one of the gang members. "This is where they went… I think I's like an elevator of some kind."

"Where'd they get the resources to build all of this shit?" I question, stepping into the elevator as Kenny closes it behind us. There are two floors we can check out, so Kenny decides to head to the first one before heading down to the ground floor.

"Must be drugs or some shit, I don't know," Kenny admits, telling me to hug the wall so that we don't get easily spotted. "What do we do once we're inside?"

Locking and loading my pistol, my first response is just to sneak our way through and try to get a good vantage point from where we can scout the situation inside. No sense in drawing attention to ourselves, and we don't have enough people with us to make mass arrests anyway. I tell Kenny that we should look for any incriminating evidence that we can find, and then head back to the station to hand it over for processing.

We hear the familiar 'ding' of the elevator as it reaches its destination, so I slowly and carefully pop my head out to make sure that nobody's outside. Looks as though the coast is clear, since there's not one trace of anybody throughout this long, dark hallway, so I motion for Kenny to creep along behind me.

The dimly-lit hallway makes this place look creepy as hell; straight out of a horror movie, if you can believe it. Every now and then we'll hear these distant creaking noises that echo down towards us, and every time I look back to Kenny he's turning in all directions with his pistol out; face as white as a ghost.

The sooner we get out of here, the better.

Motioning with two fingers to get on the other side of this office door, Kenny obliges as I slowly twist the handle and peek inside. Empty – except for one sleeping man sitting in a swivel chair right in front of a computer screen. The office is pretty much what you'd expect, with a few cubicles, desks and stacks of paper thrown carelessly about. There's a busted photocopy machine with an old china mug that reads "Best Boss" on the label, but other than that, nothing out of the ordinary.

"Let's search the desk," I suggest, my voice barely above a whisper as we tiptoe our way over. Kenny makes sure to close the door gently behind us as I slowly look over this sleeping guy's shoulder.

Hey, wait a minute! Wasn't this guy at that party that we had crashed last week? Yeah, it's the blonde-haired guy with glasses! Wyatt, I think his name was. What the hell's a kid like him doing in a place like this?

The computer screen is still on, but I quickly dismiss is at some conspiracy theory apocalypse style shit that he must've been searching up. If this kid really believes in any of this undead virus nonsense, like they've got here on some African news site, then I think he's maybe got more than one screw loose in his brain.

There's nothing terribly interesting on the desk, but I freeze in place as Wyatt mumbles in his sleep; turning his body around so that his head lands directly on my arm. Urgently looking towards Kenny for help, he quickly comes to my rescue and carefully lifts Wyatt's head up without startling him awake.

_Looks like these guys have been busy, _I think to myself, scanning various shipment forms and receipts. It seems they've been receiving packages of meth from somebody named… Merle Dixon, whoever the hell that might be. His signature, along with Carver's and two of his associates, are printed messily on each of these receipts, so I quickly scoop a bunch of them up and drop them in a gym bag that Kenny brought along with him.

"I think you missed one," Kenny whispers, taking out some sort of map from underneath the rest of the files, as well as a letter addressed from Carver himself.

"Just put those inside… we've gotta get downstairs," I remind him, quickly shuffling out of the room and wandering back towards the elevator.

…..

"Jesus…" Kenny gasps quietly, shaking his head in shock. "Lee, are you getting all of this?"

"Getting it all on camera," I acknowledge, trying to record as much as I can on my cell phone.

This place… it's literally a mafia's secret hideout. The room is absolutely massive, with sewer pipes decorating the walls as they lead out to the ocean outside. Boxes are stacked among the shelves that stretch a dozen meters high, and most of them have the letters CM stamped in tiny print somewhere on them.

"What's CM?" I ask Kenny, who's squinting to get a good look at what I'm referring to.

Opening up the gym bag, Kenny snatches the letter out and begins to read while I examine the commotion going on downstairs. Furrowing my brow, I notice that they're having a group meeting of some kind downstairs, and that a grizzled man with a fur-lined coat and shaggy hair is addressing them, while three of his stooges stand beside him. Instantly I recognize him as –

"Carver's Mafia," Kenny whispers hoarsely, causing me to look at him in surprise. "Holy fuck, Lee… He's got a god-damned army down here! They're sending out shipments of drugs and weapons overseas to the highest bidders…"

"Kind of figured as much," I mumble, looking back as Carver inspires his crowd like some sort of crazed dictator. "This guy seems pretty capable to me."

"Lee, there's more…" Kenny remarks, his voice trailing off as he reads the rest of the page.

I for one am trying to record Carver's voice as it booms out of the speakers.

"_My brothers and sisters! The time is almost upon us for our greatest triumph!" _he says, clenching his fist tightly. _"Many of you have been fired from your jobs, kicked out of your homes, and overall not been given a fair shot at living in this fucked-up society! Well, I say we take back what's rightfully ours! We'll take back this city from the corrupt hands of greedy businessmen and asshole politicians! No longer will you live in squalor!"_

"He's planning on blowing up buildings and setting up buildings all across the city," Kenny deadpans, reading the letter off to me as I continue to record. "Damn it, Lee! He's trying to overthrow the governing party and cause total panic! That way his profits from all of this shit will go through without having to worry as much! He's gonna throw Atlanta into chaos!"

"_Revolution is the only way to proceed for our community to grow." Carver announces, looking to his comrades for support. "Killing one to save the majority is a part of survival in this world – it's one of the tough choices that a weaker person couldn't make. That's why it's up to people like us to lead them to safety! Do you want to live the rest of your lives under the thumb of bitches who'll do you wrong?!"_

"_NO!"_

"_What kind of a democracy is it when the "free" people are pushed out to the dirt like filthy animals?! Will you put up with not living your life the way you want?!"_

"_NO!"_

"_Will you stand with me?!"_

"_HELL YEAH!"_

"_Ladies and gentlemen," _Carver states with a wicked smirk, _"Let's get to work."_

With a mighty roar from the crowd, they all raise an arm in the air and raise their weapons in support. This seems like much more than just a simple rebellion.

"Got that whole thing on camera," I sigh, still in bewilderment over this whole thing. This is the type of shit you'd hear about on the global news or see in the movies, but you never think something like this would happen where you live. It's even crazier when _you're _the one who's found out about this secret plot. "We've gotta get this to Rick – he'll know what to do."

"You bet," Kenny agrees as we quickly make our way to the elevator without being spotted. That was too close.

Once we're up top, we scan our area for hostiles before sprinting across the street and out of their view. Hurriedly, the two of us return to our police cruiser that's parked a few blocks away in a dark alley; scaring off a few teenagers that were no doubt up to some trouble over there. Under normal circumstances we probably would've gone after them, but right now Kenny and I are way too wired.

"I think we just hit the motherload of all crime in Atlanta," Kenny breathes out, taking off his equipment and rubbing out some of the wrinkles on his green long-sleeved shirt that he constantly wears. "How the hell did that happen?"

"Kind of ironic, don't you think?" I ask, not jokingly this time. "The rookies managed to track down the biggest criminal organization around here in decades. Now all we need to do is deliver this to Rick, get the entire squad in there tomorrow night and then stop this shit once and for all. Maybe crooks will think twice before stealing or murdering in Atlanta."

"It didn't stop us from doing it, though…" Kenny trails off, watching as we pass by streets of run-down homes. Carver did make one point – the living conditions in parts of the city are horrendous.

"No…" I concur sadly, regretting what we had become, "it didn't."

…..

Rick can't believe what we have dug up as we sit with him in his office the next morning. He's got his hand holding his head as he reads over the evidence in wonder; not really having expected this sort of thing.

"I'll be honest with you two," Rick chuckles, motioning for Shane to come inside, "I didn't expect much from one night, but you guys may have just pulled off the biggest haul we've gotten in years. Shane, look at this!"

Smirking and nudging Kenny in the arm, he smiles and nods. We did good.

"You knuckleheads found this?" Shane asks, grunting and muttering some swear word under his breath as we nod our heads.

"Alright, we'll hit them hard tonight – we can't take any chances with this. Everyone at the station needs to get to that warehouse. We'll flush 'em out of their hole and have them all into custody before they can enact… whatever it is they were planning on doing," Rick explains, dismissing Kenny and Shane but telling me to stick around for a moment.

"Everything alright, man?" I ask, watching as the two hotheads share some choice words with each other out in the hall before having it being broken up.

Smirking and shaking his head in disbelief, Rick shrugs his shoulders.

"I should be asking you the same question," he remarks, causing me to frown in confusion.

"Not sure that I know what you mean, Rick."

"You're taking on the whole mafia – trust me, we'll be there to back you up. But are you prepared for this? You and Kenny are gonna go down as heroes – all that recognition, so soon after getting out of prison… Are you sure you want that?"

"All I want is for them to be tossed into prison, Rick," I explain bluntly, "If that means that I get a few reporters asking me questions, then so be it. I'm not the same guy that I was before – I just want to live, man. Start over; start fresh."

"Alright then, as long as you're sure," Rick advises, patting me on the arm in a friendly manner. Sometimes I forget that Rick's actually my boss. "You did good out there, man. Tell Kenny that you two can take the day off, because you're gonna need all the rest you can get. And be ready… tonight, we're taking down the big guns."

"We'll need all the help we can get," I mutter as I go to tell Kenny the good news. This'll be… interesting.

…

Decked out in full riot gear (shield and everything), every single officer from the Atlanta division of Georgia State Patrol proceed to storm on the underground warehouse. Kenny and I stand next to Shane (who begrudgingly admitted that we went beyond his expectations), as well as Omid and Christa, while Rick takes a team from another angle.

It's a really good thing that I've got this riot shield covering me, since at least six bullets bounce off the screen in front of me; producing big dents that cause me to hold my breath in nervousness.

"Shots fired! Shots fired!" Shane bellows, tossing a couple canisters of tear gas towards the two attackers as they go down and try their best to not breathe in the blinding chemicals. Omid and Christa immediately go in to arrest those two thugs – who happen to be Vince and Russell, the gang members I was hiding from earlier.

"You alright man?" Kenny asks worriedly, receiving a nod from me as I try to stabilize my breathing. "Fuckers didn't even think twice about it! We're gonna take them down!"

I wish that I had Kenny's optimism.

It turns out that there's more than one entrance into this warehouse, so we split off into teams as we ride the elevators down. Shane, Kenny and I, along with a handful of other officers go into the elevator and proceed through the two floors – arresting everyone we see. It gets so bad that we simply have to tie them all up in groups out in the hallway, and that's just the _first floor. _

"Stay there," Kenny hisses, pointing a finger to the prisoners as if they might try anything. I don't think that's gonna happen, especially considering how many officers we've got scrounging around this building. I didn't realize just how many people worked for the police force until tonight.

"_YOU'RE UNDER ARREST! DO NOT RESIST, OR WE WILL BE FORCED TO REACT IN FORCE!" _Rick bellows into a megaphone as we make our way down the stairs. It's a madhouse down here, as cops toss over boxes of drugs and spill their contents out onto the floor, trying to fight off some pushy mafia gangsters that thought they could possibly make a break for it.

Something doesn't seem right though – there should be more of these thugs here. We faced hardly any problems in taking this place over…

Ignoring these thoughts for the moment, I join Rick and Shane as Kenny goes over to survey the area for more contraband. The three of us are standing face to face with the crazed psychopath himself – William Carver.

"A knock on the door would've been nice," he remarks sarcastically, snarling as Rick hands me a pair of handcuffs. How have we not run out of these things yet?

"You should be the one to do it," Rick mentions, receiving a surprising nod of reassurance from Shane. Maybe I'm starting to get respected around here, as Carver willingly holds his hands behind his back.

"You are under arrest," I start, turning him around and placing the cuffs tightly upon his wrist, "for conspiracy to murder, drug trafficking, and everything else that I'd need a fucking book to write down. You have the right to remain silent, and you have the right to an attorney. Anything you say can and will be – "

"Shut the fuck up," he bites back, rolling his eyes as I walk him outside, "Don't you think I know every rule in your book of bullshit by now? No use in wasting your breath… Lee. Huh, I heard about you."

"You don't know jack shit about me," I snarl, making him sit with a bunch of other criminals in the back seat of a police truck. I've had just about enough of this guy.

"Maybe not everything," Carver agrees, tilting his head, "but I think you and I are going to get very well acquainted, Mr. Everett. You've all made some very grave mistakes tonight – people will see soon enough. You'd better be prepared, Lee."

"Enough of your satirical bullshit," I hiss, slamming the door behind him as he smirks at me through the window. Shane then drives the truck out to Atlanta State Penitentiary.

Inside, however, my mind is racing as I quiver in slight fear.

What did Carver mean?


	7. Recognized

"_Today's top story: local Atlanta police officers Lee Everett and Kenny Hammon have been recognized as heroes and local celebrities after their recent breakthrough in greatly reducing the levels of organized crime here in the city. Reports suggest that the two were scoping out possible locations of criminal activity, when they spotted a hideaway that housed a large amount of disgruntled criminals, including notorious murderer and crime lord, William Carver." _

"_The recent statistics already show a drop in criminal activity after just two weeks of the crackdown, and the suspects could be looking at anywhere between five years to a lifetime of imprisonment. Georgia State Penitentiary gained over forty new members that day, but there could possibly still be more of them at large. The two officers responsible for locating this criminal underworld were not available for comment, but citizens can rest assured that with officers like Lee and Kenny on the case, Atlanta's streets can rest a little easier."_

"_In other news, African doctors are baffled and helpless as a deadly disease has caused widespread panic through some of the villages. Villagers have been claiming of seeing mindless, flesh-eating monsters that – "_

"Turn that shit off, Doug," I shake my head, catching the last little bit of the report on Kenny and I as I finish packing up my things for the day. "Nothing but nonsense on there half the time."

"Yeah? Well somebody's gotta give you guys the recognition for a change – even if you won't accept it yourselves."

"Looks to me as though Doug's not really interested in the news, but more so the reporter," Kenny chimes in, getting a laugh from Christa and some blushing red cheeks from Doug. "Hey, I ain't judging! She's a cutie, that Carley – you should go ask her out, man. The world could end tomorrow and you'd have never made an attempt."

"Ugh… not another _end of the world _line…" Christa moans, rubbing her hand over her face exhaustedly. "I've heard more than enough from Omid – don't you start this now, Kenny!"

"Heh, yeah? Well, when a giant tidal wave comes flooding New York, or we get hit by a bunch of meteorites, don't come cryin' to me!"

"You people are nuts," I comment flatly, shaking my head as my friends chuckle amongst themselves. "I'm heading out – don't let aliens take over your brains or something while I'm gone."

"Now that's just not funny at all, dude" Omid quips, earning a playful shove from his girlfriend as I wave goodbye to them.

As soon as I head out to the parking lot and fumble around in my pocket for my keys, I hear a group of high school kids pointing and talking amongst themselves about me. Not wanting to indulge them, I pretend to not notice their presence.

"Hey, you're Lee Everett, aren't you? The ex-criminal who caught Carver!" one of them shouts, making me cringe a little bit. That's always going to be the first thing that they think of – I was a crook and a thief. It'll never be that I'm just a normal citizen like the rest of these people. "Oh man, that was so cool!"

"My dad told me that he shouldn't have been on the force in the first place…" one very rude kid mumbles as his friends stand there shocked and unable to believe that he said that.

"Afraid you've got the wrong guy," I remark, my gaze telling them to just drop it and go home. "That's somebody else."

Looking frightfully to each other, the teens high tail it out of there while I collapse into the front seat with a sigh. Would it be too much to ask for me to just fit in around here? I've never wanted the spotlight; never cared for it growing up, and I certainly don't need it now. Rick was right about this whole thing.

Doesn't seem to bother Kenny too much, though. Duck gets to brag to all his friends about his old man now…

And what do I have? Nobody, that's who! I can have all the friends that I'd like, but at the end of the day they've all got families to look after and care about. Me? I go home and watch television until I have to get up and go to work the next day. Is this any way to live, really?

The past two weeks have been especially tough. Kenny and I both agreed that it'd be best for us to stay out of the spotlight, especially considering the fact that we just busted the biggest criminal overlord that Atlanta's had in decades. You never know what kind of crazy bastard would come find us one day and try slitting our throats for putting him in jail.

Carver… the son of a bitch is in jail, probably going to rot behind bars for the rest of his miserable life, and yet I can't help but think that we haven't won. And what he said before he was sent away still gives me nightmares every single night – we'll see each other again soon. Plus, does he know about my criminal past? Is that why he was targeting me? Why not Kenny?

…but the more that I think about it, the more terrified I become. He knows that I got caught; knows that I basically betrayed the unspoken criminal law that you don't rat each other out, even though I'm no longer playing that game.

Either way, he won't break me – I've got nothing to worry about.

…..

_Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong! Ding-Dong!_

Geez, somebody's in a rush today. Walking over to the front door, I open it to find little Clementine standing there shyly, but with a big old grin on her face. God, she's fucking adorable.

"Well, what can I do for you today, young lady?" I ask, smirking as I bend down to her level.

"Umm… well…" she stutters, twirling her foot in a circle as she looks to the ground in timidity, "My mom and dad are making supper, and… umm… we were wondering if you wanted to, maybe, come over? Please?"

"Well, with such great manners from you, how could I refuse?" I act out dramatically, causing the kid to giggle a little bit. "Thank you, Clem. That's awful nice of you – tell your parents that I'll be over in a bit, okay?"

"Okay! Bye, Lee!" she responds cheerfully, skipping back down the driveway before rushing back towards her house. Chuckling to myself quietly, I can't help but admire her youthfulness – she's one of the happiest children I've met in a very long time.

Deciding that a dinner jacket would be too formal (not to mention boiling out in this heat), I simply go with a blue golf shirt with some nice, light brown shorts. Fixing up my beard a little bit, I nod into the mirror and proceed to head over; setting the car keys back down after remembering how close they live to me. As a bit of a thank you, I grab an unopened bottle of wine (Donna liked to keep some handy) and bring it with me.

"Time to make a good impression…" I whisper to myself before ringing the doorbell. Legitimately the same time that I ring it, Clementine opens the door; probably having excitedly waited on the other side the whole time.

"Long time no see, Clem," I chuckle, heading inside as Clem takes my hand and leads me into her house. "So, where are your parents at?"

"Dad's on the barbeque outside, and I'm helping Mom in the kitchen!" she proclaims proudly; the earlier shyness seemingly having disappeared. "Wanna help me? You can be my assistant!"

"Ha ha, alright, sweet pea," I agree, inwardly cringing as I call her that. It literally just slipped off my tongue on instinct, but Clementine doesn't seem to mind. In fact, I'd say she actually kind of likes it.

Stepping into the kitchen, I give Diana a friendly hug and present her with the bottle of wine.

"Oh, Lee, you didn't need to get us anything," she explains, appreciating the gesture anyways.

"It's the least I could do, really," I admit with a shrug, washing my hands in their sink as I wave to Ed out the window. "So, what are we making tonight?"

"Vegetables!"

"Well, that narrows it down," I respond in a joking manner, as Clem sticks her tongue out at me playfully when her mother turns around.

"I'm boiling some corn on the cob and making some mashed potatoes, Clementine's handling the salad," Diana explains, wiping some dressing onto Clem's nose as she licks it off.

"Did you need any help, Chef Clem?" I ask, watching as she dumps a whole lot of croutons into the bowl and pauses, thinking about which mystery ingredient to put in next.

"Hmm…" she ponders, a knowing mother watching her with a smirk as she digs around in the fridge. "Could you cut up some cucumber for me? Mom says I shouldn't use kitchen knives yet…"

"Sure thing," I reply happily, cutting up the cucumber into tiny pieces as my little helper (or boss, in her opinion) places them into the bowl. Not thinking that Diana's looking, I quickly yank out a cherry tomato from the bowl and munch on it… only to end up getting a light, joking smack on the risk from her. Clementine giggles as she watches this unfold.

…..

"Everything's delicious, you guys," I remark between mouthfuls, picking up the bowl of mashed potatoes and placing a big scoop of the stuff onto Clem's plate. "You really outdid yourselves."

"Thanks, the pork chops were just kind of sitting in the freezer so I figured we might as well put 'em to good use," Ed says, getting an eye roll from Diana. "What? You know that's the best part of the dinner!"

"No way!" she retorts, a small smirk playing upon her lips, "Obviously my corn's the best that all of Georgia's ever had! Right, Lee?"

Getting a mischievous idea, I turn towards Clementine, who's busy trying to cut her pork chop into tinier pieces. "What should I say?" I ask her, pretending that this is the most important choice that I'll ever have to make.

"The salad!" she exclaims with a goofy smile as we all share a laugh together.

As I dig into my dinner again, I can't help but think to myself – is this really what I've been missing out on in my own life? I'd give anything to come home from work every day, help cook dinner and joke around with my wife and kids. This… it's amazing.

"Well, you've been busy lately, Mr. Everett," Ed remarks, nodding seriously in my direction, "What you're doing is fantastic, Lee. You and Kenny are getting things done out there – we don't need to worry as much about letting Clem go outside by herself anymore."

In my head, I _really _want to tell them that I admire his optimism, but it's just not that simple. I'm no hero – all I did was arrest somebody who deserved it. But, as usual, I don't say anything, not wanting to kill the moment.

"Here – a toast to Lee! With guys like you around, maybe we can all rest a little bit easier!"

"To Lee," Diana agrees, raising her wine glass with a big smile. Clem gets in on the action, too; raising her cup of milk and repeating what her mom said. I feel incredibly proud that I know and am friends with this wonderful bunch of people, even though I'm a bit embarrassed at all the attention.

"Thank you," I say simply, clanking my wine glass against Ed's and Diana's before doing the same for Clementine. It seems that she's enjoying being one of the grown-ups.

Trust me, Clem: hold onto your youth as much as you can, and don't make the same stupid choices that I did. You don't want to waste it.

"Can I show you my secret base?" Clementine asks suddenly, getting a confused look from me. That was a bit random.

"Are you some kind of spy?" I ask jokingly, excusing the both of us from the table as I follow her out to the back. Clem's so excited that I can't refuse, as she ushers me over to a pretty impressive treehouse that she's got out in the back. Looking at one of the tea sets she's got sitting around, I mentally scold myself for thinking how much better that would be with some bourbon tossed in there. I need to start drinking less…

"Isn't it cool?!" she asks, climbing up the ladder and returning with a handful of pictures.

"It's like your own little Batcave," I remark, having to explain myself at Clem's confused expression, "It's Batman's secret hideout."

"Ohhh, okay," she replies, probably still not really understanding. Quickly remembering what she wanted to do, she flips through some of her drawings until she stops at the one she wants to show me. "This one's for you!"

My heart tightens as I gaze down upon the picture under the moonlight. It's a drawing of her and I as police officers, holding hands and putting some bad guys in jail.

"Do you like it?" she asks, biting her lip as she shyly twirls her foot

Nodding my head, I instantly think that becoming a cop was the best decision I've made in years.

"I love it, Clementine. Thank you," I reply, bending down to her level and reacting in surprise when she gives me a quick hug. This is unfamiliar territory with me, but I ease my way in nonetheless. Something about being with this child just feels… right.

…..

"Listen, Lee, before you go," Ed stops me; Diana already having gone upstairs to put the little angel to bed. "I was wondering… Diana and I are going on a little vacation to Savannah in two weeks – it's sort of a tradition for the two of us."

"Extended honeymoon?" I ask, smirking as Ed chuckles in agreement.

"Yeah, sort of like that. But anyways, would you be able to look after Clementine for us? We normally would ask Sandra, but she's out on holidays with her friends for the month."

"For sure, Ed," I agree, making a mental note to take the week off for vacation or something. "She can just crash at my place for the week."

"Awesome, thanks a million, man," Ed says, shaking my hand as we say goodbye and I return to my own house.

Clem's picture sits on my dresser-drawer, and I smile as I look down at it. I think that I'm gonna take it into work with me tomorrow.

Little do I know that tomorrow is the beginning of the rockiest, most troubling and bumpiest part of my life.

For as I stroll into the station the next day, feeling better than ever, I notice that Kenny's expression darkens considerably – not that he's pissed at me, but that he's fearing for me.

"They found Donna in her apartment this morning…" he murmurs, rubbing his head in disbelief, "She's… she was shot, Lee. Somebody murdered her."

_AN: Dun, dun, dunnnn! Sorry for leaving you guys in suspense, but I hope you're enjoying this so far! I'm loving all of your reviews that you guys have posted so far, so thank you very much for that! Also, thank you to kesarkuch for all the suggestions he's been giving; they're really helping me figure things out. Until next time, thanks for reading :)_


	8. How to get away with murder

_AN: The feedback you guys have been giving is incredible! All of your ideas are being considered in this, trust me, and I'm getting pumped for how this is all going to unfold. So thank you guys for all the support, and here's the next chapter._

Kenny's driving over to the scene with me sitting in the passenger seat beside him, just completely baffled and too stupefied to make much conversation with him. Donna is… dead? How? Why would somebody kill her, and why do I get the feeling that this is more than just a coincidence? Two weeks after the biggest crime shutdown in Atlanta for as long as I can remember, and then my ex-wife is just suddenly murdered?

"You alright there, pal?" Kenny tries to comfort me, not taking his eyes off the road. "I know that must've been rough, hearing something like that."

"I just want to find the person who did it," I respond emotionlessly, leaning my chin into my hand as we pull up to Donna's apartment complex.

"We will – don't you worry," Kenny says determinedly, cutting the engine and unbuckling his seatbelt, "We're gonna find the bastard and make him squeal."

Sighing heavily, I too head out of the cruiser and walk with Kenny towards the apartment complex. Yellow police tape already wraps around the crime scene so that civilians won't cross over, but the two of us show our badges to a special crime unit to allow us access. The humidity is intense this morning, meaning that there'll undoubtedly be a big summer storm going on sometime this afternoon.

Widening my eyes, I glance upon the blackened, burnt-out Escalade sitting lop-sided in the driveway and Kenny encourages me to deal with that later. A car isn't as important as a life obviously, but why would they choose to do that anyways? Must've just been some salt in the wound or some shit.

Almost immediately, Kenny and I feel uncomfortable under the stares of the special crime unit people. It's almost as if we're unwelcome here, that we have no business to conduct and that we're just going to interfere with things. It actually kind of pisses me off – they're so _high and mighty _that they don't need the help of the _lower-class _police officers. But what they fail to realize is that this is _our _city; it's under _our _protection… and that's _my _ex-wife who's shot in there…

I should be as upset as I am right now, right? I mean, sure we weren't together anymore, and the last time that I saw her was when she was making a complete fool of herself, but we were still together for all that time! It's just… I'm not completely overwhelmed with grief this time around. Maybe it's just the profession I've chosen, or maybe I'm just a cold, heartless son of a bitch who doesn't give a damn about anything or anybody.

God, I hope I'm wrong.

"One of the first rules of a murder scene is to never have family members working the case," Shane interrupts my thoughts, giving me a quizzical eyebrow as we approach.

"Can't you lay off for just one day?!" Kenny snaps, but calming down after I reassure the both of them that I'll be alright. This is just another day at the office – I've just gotta go to work, do my duty and head home. Nothing to it.

And then I see the body covered by a thin, blue blanket, and my blood practically runs cold. Donna's underneath that thing, and if the blood stains on the carpet are any indication, this was a grizzly scene when they first arrived.

"Jesus…" I breathe out, trying my best to think of something else. Now's not the time to let your emotions get the better of you, Lee! You can't let grief and anger take over, or it'll cloud your judgement! "What, umm… what did they say happened here?"

"Two rounds to the chest," Shane explains, motioning for the two of us to come closer to the murder scene. This is horrifying. "Must've died from the bleeding, but it wouldn't have been for that long, man. She wouldn't have suffered too much."

"The hell's this?" I ask, looking behind the counter to see some sort of… oxygen mask? And what's with this empty plastic bag they've got over here?

"That's new," Shane comments, squinting his eyes to examine the objects. "Leave 'em be, alright? Let the crime unit take it back for testing."

"Sounds to me like they aren't doing their job all that well," Kenny murmurs, only loud enough for the three of us to hear. Although, the crime unit people are still giving us dirty looks as we muscle in on their territory.

I am so confused right now – what this stuff doing in Donna's house? Was she secretly a doctor in her spare time? That wouldn't make any sense, though! As far as I was aware, she never had any sort of medical training before in her life! So that can only mean one thing: somebody was planning to use this shit on my ex-wife.

The question still remains as to why.

"We're thinking whoever did this broke into the apartment, fired off two rounds at her and then left," Shane explains, rubbing his hand through his hair. "Although there weren't any signs of forced entry…"

"That's because they shot her from outside, genius," Kenny insults, pointing over to the glass window. Sure enough, there are two bullet holes with shards of glass messily tossed about onto the carpet – how this so-called "crime unit" didn't notice any of this is beyond me. The three of us have just done more than them within five minutes of being here.

"Then somebody must've snuck inside and brought this thing with them," I conclude, still puzzled as to why. "Now all we need's a motive… Fuck sakes…"

"Any ideas as to who might've done this, dude?" Kenny asks, noting that this is a bit of a touchy subject. "Is there anyone you know that would've had a reason for killing her? Anybody at all?"

Smirking devilishly, I nod and try to avert my gaze from the body as Shane and Kenny follow me out. Nobody deserves to die like this… And as a consolation, I'm going to find this fucker and make sure he sits in jail for life.

I've got a pretty good idea of who it might be.

…..

"Sit down," I order forcefully, looming in front of him with a cold, steely glare while I lean against the desk with my hands. "Where were you early this morning?!"

"Fuck you, man! I didn't do anything, I swear – "

"ANSWER THE QUESTION!" I bellow, making the young man quake under my towering presence. "This isn't something you can just avoid, Nick! I know that you were fucking my wife three years ago! I know that you were pissed when she finally grew a brain and dumped your ass! You'd have plenty of reason to do something like this! Now, let's try this again. Where the fuck were you this morning?!"

"Go to hell, man!" Nick snarls, folding his arms over his chest like a defiant little boy. "I was asleep this morning! I didn't go anywhere near your fucking ex-wife, so leave me the fuck alone!"

"You've got some nerve coming in here and bitching at me after what you've done…"

"You dragged me in here!"

"Don't change the subject!" I object, now unfortunately knowing full well that Nick isn't the culprit. He's too dumb and too much of a chicken shit to pull this kind of stunt. I don't care how much his friends vouch for him, in my book he's a total asshole. "Why were you in such a hurry to leave when I stopped by your house this morning?"

"Well, I _was_ heading back up to North Carolina with everyone else…" Nick complains, glaring at me to try and guilt-trip me. It doesn't work in the slightest. "But now I'm late, thanks to you."

"If it were up to me, you wouldn't be leaving at all. So you'd best be thankful that I don't just lock you to that chair for the rest of the god-damned week! Now get the fuck out of my station!" I bark, sighing in frustration as I watch him sprint out of the interrogation room and out of sight.

We've been at this all day – more of the people being questioned are in the other rooms, but most of them have gone home after we couldn't find any useful information. Honestly, I just figured that Nick would be the prime suspect in a case like this, but now I've got no leads.

The only other big one that I have couldn't have done it, as he's in a cell in a high-security prison.

"That was a little over the top, don't you think?"

"This is coming from you?" I quip, rubbing my eyes tiredly as my best friend comes in to hand me a cup of water from the tap. "I don't know what to do anymore, Kenny. Donna's dead, and we've got no leads. Somebody out there murdered her, and they're gonna get away with the worst kind of crime of them all."

"Hey, you don't know that…"

"Things just aren't adding up… things don't make sense anymore," I admit to him seriously, "How were they able to pull that shit off in broad daylight, with nobody around to even see it? None of the other apartment renters were in the building, Kenny. That doesn't just happen!"

"What are you getting at?" Kenny asks, concerned at how paranoid I'm probably sounding.

"I'm saying that this thing wasn't just some random shooter out looking for a kill, this was organized. No witnesses, no leads, and then that fucking oxygen mask with the bag… These were trained killers!"

"I think you might just need some rest, Lee," Kenny tries to reassure me, folding his arms across his chest, "It's a lot to take in, I get it. It's been a long day, and – "

"Kenny… you've gotta believe me, man! Why can't you back me up on this?"

"Hell, I believe in ya," he says firmly, nodding his head as his eyes lower to the floor. "But… maybe this whole thing's clouding your judgement a little bit, man. We won, remember? We kicked organized crime in this city straight in the balls, and locked up most of the perpetrators. Carver hasn't moved – if anyone's left, then what would they do without a leader? We both saw what they were – nothing but a pack of sheep following their shepherd."

"I'm… I'm not crazy…" I try to reaffirm; my voice giving way to my doubt as Kenny pats me on the back like the honorary brother that he's become over the years.

"Ha! I wouldn't be too quick to say that," Kenny smirks jokingly, hoping that somehow it cheers me up. "But just… get some rest, alright? We'll pick this up in the morning, when we've all cleared our heads."

Nodding solemnly, Kenny exits the room as I stay put and try to figure out my life. Am I losing it? Have my feelings already clouded my vision and judgement? I mean, Kenny's got a point – we took a swing at the criminal activity here in Atlanta; hit them right where it hurts the most.

But have they just started to hit back?

My suspicions are reaffirmed when I head home… and find a small, spray-painted message written messily on my garage door.

_WE KNOW – GET READY FOR ROUND TWO._

I stand there in utter silence for a solid minute; letting their words sink into my brain. They know who I am – this is just the beginning. Whoever it is, they're out for revenge… by hurting those around me. If they want to take revenge so badly, then they can just come and kill me in my sleep or something. There's no need to hide behind a mask or in the shadows.

Clenching my teeth in sheer anger, I slam my fist into the garage; causing my fist to bleed and a dent to appear in the door. I ignore the concerned look from Clementine as she looks up from her chalk drawings, quietly asking me if I'm alright.

No, Clem. I'm not – not in the slightest.

I will find them, and when I do… I don't know what's gonna happen.

…..

Over the next five days, the city starts to panic, and even the mayor can't seem to quell the masses of frightened people. There have been at least ten attacks on various public buildings around the city, including banks, post offices and (you guessed it), the police station. Some asshole launched a grenade through the front window and murdered Doug, Omid and a couple of others that were hunched together for a meeting… They're gone, and once again the murderer got away unchecked. Christa hasn't been back to work since – I'm pretty sure she's quitting the force.

Can't say that I blame her, really. Rick and Shane both ordered us to constantly be on the lookout and report any suspicious activity immediately. The first fucking sign of rushed movement when we'd walk by would be enough of a motivation for them to be arrested.

And yet, nothing's been done: something's not right here. The cops aren't doing their jobs, and the four of us (Kenny, Shane, Rick and I) know that something's amiss. They've killed off a bunch of cops, so of course it may be a little bit more difficult to track the crooks down. But that's no excuse for some of these other officers that I don't really know to just start calling in sick, or not answering at all when we try communicating with them over the radio when they actually _do _go out on patrol.

I think that we're the only clean cops left in this hell of a city.

"Still think I'm crazy, Kenny?" I ask one day just off the top of my head; not expecting him to admit that I may have been right. Kenny's the most stubborn man that I know, and to hear him admit that this city's going to hell kind of puts me on edge.

As Kenny goes out for break, I sit back in a chair and try to keep my sanity in check. I got a call yesterday from Ed and Diana saying that they've changed their vacation plans; deciding that with the recent events going on, they want to be with their daughter and keep her as safe and close as possible. I wholeheartedly agreed with them, and made sure to let them know that if they ever needed it, my key's under the welcome mat at my house. I basically told Ed that they're an extended family.

The occasional sound of a car driving by outside is more noticeable now, since there's a huge fucking chunk of the building that's been blown to smithereens thanks to some asshole with a weapon. The funeral for our fallen officers is going to be held in a couple of days.

Doug never got to tell Carley that he fancied her, either… For some reason, that's what I keep replaying in my head over and over again whenever I think about him. Like somehow that matters…

If you couldn't tell already, there's enormous amounts of stress around the station; especially with Rick. He's up to his ass in paperwork and complaints about how we're "not doing our jobs properly". Yeah, you heard right – literally three weeks after they praised our names, they go ahead and stab us in the back. I guess that's what people do when they're frightened. Terrorism at its finest.

So why hasn't the president sent the military or anything to help guard the city?

Breaking me out of my thoughts is the ringing of the phone, and I casually walk over towards it; picking it up and figuring that it'll just be another dick calling about how shitty a job I've been doing.

I wish that's what it was.

"Hello?" I speak into the receiver, twirling the cord around my fingers. Yeah, we needed to keep below the budget on some things like this.

"_Son? Lee? It's your dad."_

"Oh, umm… wow, hey! Haven't heard from you guys in a while," I admit, leaning back in my spinning chair and widening my eyes. Nobody else is around me at the moment. "What's… what's going on, Dad?"

"_Lee… mind telling me what in god's name is going on here?"_

Frowning in confusion, I repeat my previous question but with more concern. Why does he sound so nervous?

"_Would you mind telling me why somebody would leave a horse's head in our bed this morning?" _he asks, causing me to be even more confused than I was before. A horse's… head? Why the fuck would anyone leave…

…oh my god…

"Dad…" I whisper hoarsely, trying not to break down. You'd only leave one of those in a person's bed if you wanted to… "Where are you? Who's… who's with you right now…"

"_Lee, it's… we're in the pharmacy," _he explains, sighing in defeat as he too realizes what this could possibly be referring to. _"Your brother, your mother and I are working right now, son. And I'm assuming these two shady-looking fellows are here… you know…"_

"Get out of there, Dad…" I beg him, tears of pure grief and anger stinging my eyes, "Please… I'll… I'll come for you, understand? I'm gonna get in the car and pick you guys up… Damn it, you're gonna be fine! I'll fucking kill every last one of them!"

"_Lee Everett, you listen to me right now, young man!" _Dad orders, though I can tell that he's just as shaken up as I am. I can hear Mom weeping on the other line as Bud yells at the mystery men who've come in and started tossing gasoline all over the shelves. _"We… it's going to be too late, son. We're gonna be fine. These jerks will get what's coming to them in the end… but you need to be strong, alright? I need you to be strong!"_

"I love you, Dad…" I whimper, choking on my sobs as I hear the echoed screams of my mom and brother. "Tell Mom and Bud that I love them too… I love you all so much…"

"_We love you too, Lee. Never forget that…" _he cuts off, before getting knocked off the phone. Their screams rip from their lungs as they fill the store; slowly being drowned out by the sound of gunfire and flames engulfing the pharmacy.

Immediately losing control of myself, I croak up oncoming sobs and toss the phone as hard as I can into the wall; smashing it into pieces. Rick and Shane are too busy to notice my utter rage and grief, and Kenny's not here right now. All the other officers wouldn't give a shit either way, probably because I think most of them are being bought off by the same mafia assholes who've murdered my ex-wife and family.

My cellphone vibrates rapidly on the table, but I don't answer it for several rings. I'm literally sprawled out on the floor like an idiot, not caring if the entire roof collapsed on top of me at that moment.

Eventually though, realizing that it could be a case of life or death, I check the caller ID: Ed and Diana.

Immediately picking it up and choking back my grief (though it's still evident in my voice), I hear the tiny, scared voice of Clementine come on the other end.

"L-Lee?!"

Sprinting out of the station and past a concerned best friend, I scramble into the car and drive out of the parking lot; doubling the speed limit in the direction of our street.

_AN: In case you're confused about the horse head thing, it's what gangsters used to do back in the day as a warning to let people know they were going to die. I thought it'd be a cool way of showing it, I don't know… Anyways, I'll be sure to write the next part soon. Things are heating up!_


	9. I'm done

"DAMN YOU ALL! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!"

"Lee?!"

"Oh no, I'm sorry sweet pea," I quickly apologize over and over again, not wanting to get even more upset than I already am. I'm so close to going over the edge right now. "Just trying to… to get to you guys. God damn it…"

"Are you okay?" she asks worriedly, and I can tell that she's never been more scared in her whole life.

"No…" I admit softly, my Dad's voice and my Mom and brother's screams still echoing in my head. "But… don't worry about me, alright? Where are you right now?"

"In my house," she whispers, probably not trying to alert whoever's in there with her. "Mom told me to hide behind the couch."

"Who's there with you?" I ask, fearing that I already know the answer to that question. I angrily flip an old lady the bird as she cuts me off and prevents me from getting to Clementine. Fucking traffic jam! Instantly I turn on the police lights and scoot past many of the cars as they start pulling over to the side.

"Me, Mom and Dad," she answers with a whimper, bringing me back to the situation at hand. "Dad opened the door, and two scary guys with guns came into the house! I… I don't know what to do!"

In the background I can hear the sound of a shouting match going on, probably Diana yelling at the goons not to hurt Ed. I can hear the sound of guns being locked and loaded, but nothing's happened yet.

"Clem, you need to listen to me alright? You're… you aren't safe there," I explain, my breath hitching in my throat as more tears stain my shirt.

"Why not?"

Oh god, sweet pea! I will do whatever I can to protect you, I promise! It's… it's what her parents would want me to do… It's what my family would want me to do…

"Can you do me a favour?" I ask shakily, hearing a yes on the other end of the line. "Can you… can you see what they look like?"

"There's a scary-looking man with a hat, and another one's got a beard and kinda long hair."

Not much to go on, but it's a start. Hopefully I won't even need to look for them by the time that I get there, but I've still got at least ten minutes at this rate to get to the house.

Horror clouds my mind as I realize that I'm probably going to be too late to save them all… The least I can do is keep Clem safe.

"Clementine, listen to me honey," I say in a choked-up, battered voice as I shakily pull the cruiser onto the next street. "Tell your parents… tell your parents that you love them, alright? Can you do that for me?"

"Okay, Lee…" she responds, probably not understanding why she's got to do this. I can't tell an eight year old girl that her parents probably aren't going to make it. Hearing some muffled sobs, I'm assuming that they're allowing Clem to get a head-start; even heartless dicks like them will let an innocent eight year old have a fair shot.

Now here comes the hard part.

"You still with me, sweet pea?"

"Yeah…"

"Okay good… good," I choke out, wanting her to keep talking to me as a way of distraction. "Is there somewhere you can hide? Somewhere that you know they won't look for?"

"In the… in the secret base, remember?" she asks me, tears undoubtedly forming in her eyes as she finishes talking to her parents.

"Then you go straight there, okay?" I tell her as firmly as I can, hearing the back door slowly open and close as she scurries off. "You shut the door behind you, and you don't let anyone inside until I get there, understand? I promise you, Clem… I'll find you and keep you safe, okay? You can trust me…"

"Lee… what are they doing in there…" her voice trails off as she ventures up into the treehouse and shuts the door behind her (or at least I think that's what happens).

How am I supposed to explain to this sweet, kind, innocent child that her parents are about to be slaughtered in her own house?

"Just… stay with me, alright? Don't hang up, no matter what you hear!"

"Lee…"

"Just stay with me, Clem! Clementine! I'm coming for you, understand?! I'LL BE THERE FOR YOU! ALWAYS!"

The bullets rip through the air violently, and I can hear shards of glass shattering into pieces as Clem screams and cries uncontrollably. In sheer hopelessness, I slam my fist into the steering wheel several times and cry my heart out, turning a corner and not even bothering to stop as I bump my car into a parked vehicle.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK!" I scream out; all my rage being unleashed in a fury of red. Rage and utter, soul-shattering grief encapsulates my body, and there are now only two things left on my mind.

One is to get to Clementine and get her to safety as quickly as possible.

Two is to find and kill every single man and woman responsible for the deaths of Donna, my Dad, Mom and brother, as well as Ed and Diana. I won't stop until they're either all rotting in jail for the rest of their lives, or they're buried six feet under. I couldn't be more serious – if it costs me my job because of it, then so be it.

This city's going to shit anyways, as radio broadcasts from the station keep crying out that more attacks have come from rebel ships near the waterways.

Pulling onto the street, I only see fiery red as both of those shitbirds climb into their white van and try desperately to escape the scene – but they're not getting out of here. Not bothering to reduce my speed, I pull out my pistol and begin to fire through the windshield directly at them. A couple of bullets manage to graze one guy's arm, but they peel out of the driveway right as I slam my cruiser directly into the back of their van.

Quickly opening my door, I fire off more pistol shots at the back of their van; probably startling them, but obviously not doing anything productive. Not bothering to resume the chase, I hustle my way up the steps and barge into their house without any warning.

I release a sob of agony as I enter Clem's house.

Ed's face is completely unrecognizable as the blood trickles onto the floor, but… something's wrong with Diana. She's tied up by the same oxygen mask that I found in Donna's apartment, but Diana's eyes are glazed over and her skin has already started to decay.

"Fucking Christ… I'm sorry… I failed you… I'm so god-damned sorry…" I murmur, holding my head in my hands with complete shame. This is all my fault, and I _damn well _know it. These goons were after those that I was closest to, and I let them down so badly. I hurt them so bad.

With my eyes red and puffy, I hesitantly step around their bodies and make my way out through the glass door and into the backyard…

…not noticing that Diana's eyes have moved after I leave.

…..

A slight breeze rolls through and caresses my chin; making the tears spread somewhat along my face as I desperately race to the treehouse.

"Clem?! Clementine?!" I call out desperately, hollering up to her secret base in a desperate attempt to make sure that she's safe. When I hear nothing, my heart beats frantically and I shove against the wooden entrance as hard as I possibly can force my muscles to go.

"GO AWAY!" she screams, not budging as I continue to push upwards. I can hear the frailty and terror within her, and so I calmly try regaining my disposition.

"Clem… it's me, sweet pea," I encourage, my voice failing me as once again I fight off the grief. "Come on, hon… Open up. Please…"

Ever so reluctantly, I hear her shuffle to the side a smidge, and I take my opening as acceptance. Climbing up into the treehouse, I watch as Clementine curls herself into a ball and shakes as small, regulated cries come out of her small frame. What used to be a happy, carefree kid on her summer vacation is now a crumpled, torn apart mess that I've caused.

"Clem…" I ease my way in, settling myself beside her as I try to make heads or tails about how she's feeling. We've both lost people we loved today, and right now it pretty much seems like the end of the world.

A few seconds later, Clem buries her face in my shirt as I struggle to control my own emotions. Rubbing my hand soothingly through her curly hair, I keep on promising her that I'll keep her safe; that no matter what happens, I'll be there for her.

"I won't let you down again…" is what I say last, and this just makes the situation so much more difficult. Here we are sitting side by side in a fucking treehouse, while her family's dead in her house and mine's burning in some pharmacy in Macon. Dad was right – I'd have never made it there in time.

Hearing some kind of low, gravelly sound, I carefully tell Clementine that I'll be back to her in just a moment. She protests and says that she doesn't want me to leave… but something doesn't sound right. And it's coming from inside the house.

Making my way back down the ladder, I whisper hoarsely to Clem to stay put, and then I tiptoe my way back to her sliding door. I'm almost certain that the little girl's watching me through the wooden construct, and somehow that makes me feel a little bit better. At the end of the day, I've still got people like Kenny and Clem to care about; to keep out of harm's way.

To make sure those murderers can't ever harm people like them ever again.

Holding my gun out, the first thing I notice is the blood on the hardwood floor and carpet. _That _I expected to see, as they were shot to pieces and probably fucking experimented on. The glass is smashed to pieces and litters the countertop, sink and grass outside, and some bullet shells also remain on the ground.

But what I don't expect is to see Diana… _eating her dead husband_.

What happens in this house is highly classified and highly confidential information, and under no circumstances will I reveal this to Clementine. She'd be devastated, not to mention mentally traumatized, if she were to see what I'm seeing now.

Ed's stomach has been ripped open, and Diana (or what used to be her anyways) is eating chunks of guts from him; blood pouring through the spaces between her fingers as she eats it like some greasy chicken wings. I swallow my bile as it reaches up through my throat, and I have to hold onto the counter for support as I watch this all unfold. What in the actual fuck is going on here?!

Ignoring the plastic bag sitting beside her as well as the oxygen mask (that she must've gotten off) for now, I gasp and watch as Diana's horrifying gaze turns to me. Snarling, she stumbles and reaches out for me like… like some kind of monster.

"Don't make me do this…" I whisper, holding my pistol out shakily as I aim it towards her. When she continues to come forward, I fire one bullet at her… but it doesn't do a damn thing! I swear to god, I don't even think she felt anything at all! Firing again near her neck, I gag as it rips through her neck and more blood comes clotting out, until I finally shoot her square in the head. Diana falls to the ground in a heap; dying upon impact.

I need to calm down and think rationally about this situation… Whatever it is that those assholes did to this poor woman just isn't natural.

And I've got a sneaking suspicion that it has to do with this chemical bag over here.

…..

"I'm gonna take you back to the station with me, okay?" I inform the young girl, taking her tiny hand in mine as we trudge carefully _around _the house. No fucking way am I going back inside!

"But… Mom… Dad…"

"I know, sweetie, I know. But… you've gotta be strong, alright? I need you to be strong," I tell her, repeating the words that my father told me but hours ago. We both need to take that advice – it's the only way we're going to get through this.

Taking one last look at her home, Clementine hops into the front seat with me as I buckle her in. She seems empty, as if the weight of the world has suddenly become far too much for her to handle all on her own. And it is, really. There's just no justice left anymore.

No matter what, I can't change what happened – this girl's going to be emotionally scarred for the rest of her life.

As the next thirty minutes roll by, and Clementine surprisingly ignores the fact that my front window is smashed to bits, I try my best to absorb the situation. Many of those closest to me are now dead, and I just saw something in that house that I still can't believe.

Did those goons somehow bring her back from the dead?!

Shaking these thoughts aside for the moment, I stifle my courage and composure together and try calling Kenny; watching as Clementine stares sadly out the window.

"Talk to me, Ken. Are you there?"

"Jesus Christ, Lee! I've been trying to get through to you for a god-damned hour!" he yells, panic evident in his voice as I can visually see him glaring at me in my head. "Some assholes tried to attack my family, man! What the fuck's going on here?!"

"Kenny… are they alright…"

"Yeah, yeah they're fine," he confirms, making me sigh in slight relief. "But are _you _okay? You took off like a madman and didn't even bother to say why!"

My voice hitches in my throat for a minute as I release another quiet sob – Clem does the same as we both pull into the station. "I'll… tell you inside. Are you at the police station?"

…

Holding his head in his hands, I relay the story to Kenny with as much sanity as I can. Making sure that Clementine isn't around to hear us, I usher her into Rick's office and let him and Shane know that she needs to be here for a little while. Understanding what must have happened, they simply nod and try to take her mind off of things. Thank god for those two, seriously…

"Oh my god…" Kenny responds as I finish regaling him with my tale, including everything from the deaths to the murderers getting away _again_ to Diana coming back to life. "Jesus, Lee… I… I don't even know what to say, bud. That's a whole bunch to take in…"

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"About what?"

"Diana," I explain, my previous sadness slowly dissipating and making room for the anger. "You think that I was seeing things, that I'm making the whole thing up and that they're not reanimating people after killing them."

"Well, fuck man! What do you think I'm gonna say?!" he says, trying to calm me down as I begin pacing around the room. "That shit doesn't happen, Lee! You just lost your whole fucking family plus your neighbours, so yeah, of course I'm not gonna believe that her mom came back to life! You're traumatized, man! We've all been there!"

"Believe whatever you want, Kenny. But that's how it went down," I hiss, kicking the chair in frustration. "This whole city is fucked. This whole police force is fucked, and its people are all fucked! Somebody out there is using chemical shit on dead bodies! That's what they tried to do to Donna, and it worked on Diana! We need to stop this shit before it gets too bad, and I need to find those fuckers… and kill every last one of them."

"Lee, you don't mean that."

"We need to get to Carver," I interrupt, not wanting to divulge into anything too graphic with my best friend. "We need to talk to him, shake him down and find out which of his psychotic friends are behind this shit. I'm going to talk to Rick about it, and you need to come with me."

"Alright," he relents, rubbing his tired eyes as he stands up, "but somebody needs to take Clementine back to my place with Kat while we're gone."

"We'll get one of the other officers to do it," I respond, not thinking as clearly as I should. Looking over at a couple of cops that just walk in, I immediately turn to them. "I need you to do me a favour, alright? One of you guys needs to take this young girl back to Kenny's house."

Nodding his head, the officer tilts his hat towards me in acknowledgement. "Can do, sir," he says in a cocky manner, "I'll make sure that she's safe and sound; no worries on that front."

Elbowing me in the ribs, Kenny whispers in my ear; asking me if this is such a good idea. He's concerned since he's never seen either of these two guys before, but I reassure him that not all police officers are as bad as we've made them out to be.

Again – I'm not exactly in my normal headspace right now.

Hugging the little girl tightly, I calmly reassure her and tell her that I'll be back as soon as I can, and that she can grab one of the police officer walkie-talkies if she needs it. This is mostly just a comfort thing, and I rub her back soothingly as she whispers that she doesn't want me to leave. Thrust into a big, scary world just after losing your parents… that would be heart-breaking at any age.

As we drive off to Georgia State Penitentiary, check inside and are about to talk to Carver, I mentally kick myself and wonder how I could've possibly been so stupid. Kenny informs me the worst kind of news, and I'm going to put an end to this shit once and for all.

"I was wondering when you'd finally show up," Carver smirks, resting his cuffed hands on the table as I angrily sit across from him; ready to gut him with a knife at any possible moment. "Took your sweet time getting here, didn't ya?"

"Clementine never made it home," I snap, clenching my fists so tightly that my knuckles turn white. "Your men murdered five people who were close to me, and countless others have been killed – by your hand."

"Kind of hard to do any of that when I'm in prison, don't ya think?" he replies, gesturing to his wrists and his orange prison suit. "I am sorry that happened to you, Lee… But maybe you'll catch the real culprits. Who knows, what with everything that's been going on recently, right?"

"I'm not gonna ask again…" I snarl, standing up and tossing my chair to the floor. "WHERE IS SHE?! WHO TOOK CLEMENTINE AND MURDERED THOSE PEOPLE?! WHO?! WHO?!"

When he shakes his head and chuckles at how worked up I'm getting, I slowly walk over towards him. Taking the collar of his jumpsuit, I pull upwards and bring my other fist down upon his face; leaving several bruises upon his cheek as I then grasp my hand threateningly around his neck.

"Where?! Who?!" I ask again, my breath coming out in huffs as Kenny barges into the interrogation room. "Do you honestly think that I care about your measly, pathetic life? I'll rip your god-damned throat out if you don't tell me right fucking now!"

"Lee! God damn it, man, that's enough!"

"What if it was your fucking family?!" I bellow, dropping the miserable prick to the ground as he shakes his head in astonishment. "What if Katjaa and Duck were both dead?! What if this fucking bastard had them both murdered?! Wouldn't you want to find out who's responsible?!"

"I wouldn't let them get the chance – they won't be harmed, not if I have anything to do with it!"

"You know what, Kenny?" I ask him, walking with my best friend out of the room and leaving Carver struggling for breath, "I used to think the same thing…"

"What are you saying, Lee?" Kenny asks as Rick approaches us to see just what the hell all the ruckus is about. Looking between the both of them, I huff in anger, take out my officer's badge and hand it back to Rick.

"I'm done," I grunt, brushing past Rick as Kenny rushes up behind me. "I'm done with corrupt officers not batting an eyelash to bring people to justice. I'm fucking finished with sitting around on our asses and not doing anything to catch these murderers! Nobody else will die because I didn't do anything to stop it. I'm sorry Kenny, but I can't do this shit anymore…"

Turning around to face him, I see a mix of disappointment, regret and acceptance. He's going to let me go, but tells me that I'm still (and always will be) welcome at his door.

"And Lee…" he mentions, stopping me just as I'm about to exit this gods-forsaken prison, "…sources tell us that one of Carver's old allies is staying outside a junkyard in the east end of the city. We're gonna bring her home, Lee. Somehow."

"Then I'll start there," I affirm, turning on my heel and into the night. Somehow is right - by any means necessary will I get Clem back to me.

From now on, I'm taking the law into my own hands.

_AN: Sorry if that felt a bit confusing at times, but I tried to jam as much events into there as possible. Btw, with the whole Diana thing… I guess the cat's kind of out of the bag now, isn't it? Kenny thinks Lee's crazy, but this is only the beginning. I'll be exploring this aspect further, but for now just think of this as slightly different than how it's spread in the game._

_If you have any questions, feel free to let me know, and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability. Until then, thank you for reading, and please leave a review :)_


	10. Renegade

I should've just listened to Kenny about that guy… Clementine wouldn't be caught up in this mess if it wasn't for my lack of insight. God, how could I have been so blind?! Instead of me personally escorting the frightened child back to Kenny's place, I brush it off and go straight after Carver, who proved to be no help to me anyways.

But I know that the bastard's lying – I could see it on his face. He's plotting something, and it's only going to be a matter of time before things go terribly wrong.

The mayor of Atlanta has called a public meeting at city hall today to address the recent attacks, murders and whatnot, but that's not where I'm headed. No – they can make all the promises about keeping the city safe that they want, but I've got a job to do.

Kenny's sent me the exact coordinates via a text. It seems that he's the only friend that I've got left, but he insists that his name not be mentioned if something goes wrong. I told him that his secret is safe with me.

As the sun begins to set, I hide behind a wooden fence and wait for the right opportunity. I don't have any bulletproof vests on me this time, but I did manage to pilfer away with my pistol and several cases of ammunition. That should be more than enough.

Listening to the sound of laughter coming from a couple of the workers, I silently make my way inside when they aren't looking. Yes, technically this is trespassing, as the dump site is closed and off-limits to people until tomorrow, but there are very few people remaining here.

The person that I want is in inside one of those portable storage units; probably hatching another plan to kill someone else.

Here's the thing: every single worker here right now is a part of Carver's little rebellion team. How do I know this? Well, if you remember when Kenny and I were scouting out earlier in that warehouse, we managed to recover a list with all of the members, and Kenny's run police scans on all of these bastards (trust me, I didn't know he was that good with computers either). I don't know their names, but Ken figured out that at least ninety percent of the workers are members of Carver's Mafia.

As I scurry more quickly over to the office, one of the workers spots me and rushes over to confront their little intruder. How unfortunate… for him.

"Hey! You're definitely not supposed to be here! Now am I going to have to escort you out, or are you just gonna go on your – "

He doesn't get to finish his sentence, as I bash his head several times with the butt of my gun and drag his unconscious body over to the side, where nobody else will be able to find him. Now _that _was a close call… No sense in letting these fuckers know where I am.

Wiping off some beads of sweat, I crouch down and begin to sneak my way to this portable office – luckily the door's unlocked when I arrive. Twisting it open, I hold my gun at my side when I come face to face with Tavia, who's sitting there shocked in her seat. Calmly, I close the door behind me and lock it – making sure that nobody can get in or out until I've concluded my business.

Taking a stainless steel chair, I drag it over so that it makes a deafening screeching sound until I plop it right in front of this crazed, evil woman.

"What the fuck are you doing in here?!" she finally berates, reaching for her revolver as I fire off a bullet onto the desk.

"Try that again and I kill you. No exceptions," I tell her coldly, lowering my eyelids as if I'm bored with this conversation already. "Who did you kill?"

"What?!"

"Did I stutter?" I ask, holding the pistol threateningly at her rather large frame. "Who was it, Tavia? My ex-wife? My family? My neighbours? Which one of those did you cowardly shoot down out of spite for me locking up your fucking leader?"

"Why should I tell you anything?" she spits, trying her best not to be intimidated by me and my gun. I can tell that her charade isn't working out very well.

"I've got your life in my hands, Tavia. I suggest that you cooperate – I'll throw it away if you don't give me what I want," I respond evenly, aiming the pistol down at her foot and shooting her straight through the shoe; causing her to cry out in pain. "That's strike two – next one's at your neck. Now I've got two questions for you: where's Clementine, and who did you kill?"

"Argghh… I don't know who that little fucking kid is!"

"Obviously you do, since you seem to know that she's a child," I argue, reloading the weapon as she sits there in pain. I then stand up, stomp on her injured foot and aim the pistol menacingly at her head. "Last chance, you lying little shit! I don't care if I bathe this entire room with your blood! Now tell me what I want to know!"

"It was Donna! I killed Donna!" she wails out desperately, practically begging for her life as the cold steel of my pistol brushes against her forehead. "I don't know where they took the girl! They did that part without consulting with the rest of us! It wasn't a part of the plan!"

"WHO TOOK HER?!" I bellow at her, causing her eyes to widen in fear.

"It was Nate, okay?! Nate and some other creepy guy that joined up late! That's all I know, I swear!"

"What about that chemical shit you left in Donna's apartment?" I ask, lowering the weapon and backing up from her for a moment. I'm almost finished here.

Smirking wickedly, Tavia shakes her head and simply replies that it's a part of their glorious triumph; as if this is all some sick victory that they're trying to achieve.

Glaring daggers at Tavia, I pick up her revolver, place it in my pocket, and slowly turn to leave. But right as I grasp the door handle, something inside of me snaps, and I do something that I promised myself I'd never do in a million years; not even when I was stealing things with Kenny.

Tavia looks up; eyes begging for a mercy that I no longer possess. Mercy is weakness – a weakness that I can't afford anymore. If I let her go, then she'll just get up and kill again. In a way, I'm doing this city a public service, though I'm certain that they won't see it that way.

In time, perhaps, but for now I'll be seen as an outlaw; a renegade.

"You told me you wouldn't…" Tavia murmurs, trying to somehow protect herself by moving around in the chair. As if any of that's going to make a difference.

"I guess we've both fucked up then, haven't we?" I ask quietly, before pulling the trigger and shooting her square in the head.

…..

"It's not too late to come back, you know."

"Yes it is, Ken," I tell him, head shaking as I hear him sigh on the other end of the phone. He doesn't know about me killing Tavia just a few hours ago, and I won't tell him until my task is completed. Chances are, though, that the call will eventually come out anyways and he'll be forced to hunt me down with the rest of the police force; instead of tracking down the real criminals of this city. Step two is about to commence.

"What is it you're doing out there, man?" he asks me honestly, and I struggle for an appropriate answer. What could you classify this as? Revenge? Murdering? Am I any better than the people that killed close friends and family?

In my mind, yes – it would be a dishonour to their memories if I was to sit on my ass and do nothing.

"Justice," I tell him after thinking for a bit. That has a much nicer ring to it. "I'm taking it into my own hands. I can't sit by and follow a system that needs to prove every fucking detail in order to even lay a finger on a suspect, when we both know in our hearts that those monsters are just going to strike again. I can't do that shit anymore, Kenny."

"…you sound like our fucking high school English teacher, you realize that, don't you?"

"You haven't changed a bit," I chuckle, glad to see that Kenny still hasn't given up on me. That's what a real friend does. "But I suspect that they're making you look into my profile now, aren't they?"

"I tried talking them out of it… but yeah," Kenny admits sheepishly, "They're just concerned about you, that's all, Lee. They want to make sure that you're alright."

"I haven't been alright in a long time…"

"That's why I'm here, pal," Kenny responds as I hear him shuffling about for a moment. "I tried digging up some dirt on this Nate dude, but I've got jack shit. _However, _there's some asshole named Troy that was Carver's second in command – maybe you could start there."

"Just point me in the right direction. Thanks for doing this, Kenny."

"It's Clementine; of course I'll try to help. This is the last time though, alright?" Kenny warns, his voice indicating that he's dead serious. "After this…"

"You come after me. I know," I sigh, writing down the address before telling him to take care and hanging up the phone. I don't think that's what he meant, but I know that's going to happen regardless.

With the way things have been going, however, I'm not so sure that he'll even have the time to try and find me.

…..

Calmly turning the corner towards the highest spot in Atlanta I can go that overlooks the ocean, I roll my eyes as I hear some more banging coming from behind me. This trip has been nothing but a hassle, seriously! Blasting the radio, I try to tune out the occasional noises coming from the trunk and drum my fingers along the steering wheel to the beat. This should provide a decent enough distraction until we get to our destination.

Clementine… they better not have hurt you. They better not have harmed a hair on your little head, or I so help me god I'll shove their guns straight up their asses. Warrants and paperwork be damned! If I have to blow every single fucking building in this city up to find that little girl, then you know I'd do it!

Of course, there are… _alternative _means of getting the information I need.

For instance…

Parking my car a few feet away from the plunge over the cliff, I switch off the ignition and open the door; getting ready for the headache of a lifetime.

"Rise and shine, Troy," I say to him as I open the trunk. "Today's your judgement day."

Ripping the duct tape painfully off his mouth, removing some of his beard in the process, I forcefully yank him out of the trunk as he kicks and squirms in a desperate attempt to escape. When I came to the address, I didn't even give him a chance to breathe as I clocked him right in the face when he answered the door. Dazed, I had immediately capitalized on the situation and roughed him up some more until I started asking him some questions. Only until I noticed how he howled in complete agony when I hit his arm did I realize it.

Troy was the one that I shot outside of Clementine's house.

After that, I tied him up, shoved him in the trunk and headed off to the place that we're at now. What better method of intimidation is there than forceful interrogation at this height?

"You ready to come clean now, asshole?" I snarl, the wind picking up and causing me to yell over the noise it's making. When Troy says nothing, I drag his worthless body over to the edge of the cliff, pin him to the ground and release my grip on him. At first, he doesn't notice what's going on.

But when he turns his head around…

"FUCK!" he swears, trying to scoot over but being blocked by me.

"You're not going anywhere," I point out, kicking him hard in the ribs, and bending down onto one knee in front of him. "Not until I get some answers."

"You little shit…" he huffs out as my patience begins to wear thin. "You can't do anything right, can ya? Lettin' all of those people die… And then lettin' that fucking brat get caught like that?"

"I need to know where Nate is," I remain calm, holding Tavia's revolver out in front of his head. "You know his location, and now you're going to tell me everything you know. It's a long way down, Troy. Are you really gonna risk your life over your fucking pride? Give it up, man! Whatever you guys were planning is over!"

"It hasn't even started yet, douchebag!" he snarls, but his mood slowly changes as I fire off a bullet into the dirt beside him.

"Nobody can hear your screams up here, Troy…"

"I don't know where Nate is! Bill might, but there ain't no way he'll talk to ya! Especially considering it's you!" he admits, sighing in relief as I help raise him to his feet.

He doesn't know what I'm planning to do.

"You murdered Ed and Diana – I know that Nate was with you," I accuse lowly, clenching my fist as Troy admits that I'm right. "They had no relation to you, and yet you murdered them in cold blood. You turned Diana into some kind of monster with your sick, twisted chemical shit; brought her back from the dead so that she'd eat her dead husband! AND YOU HAVE THE BALLS TO STAND THERE AND ACT LIKE NOTHING YOU DID WAS WRONG!"

"Huh, I guess it worked after all," Troy says, spitting a wad of saliva into my face as my blood boils. "If you hadn't fucked up by raidin' our warehouse, then they wouldn't have had to die. You screwed up, son! You and your friends are dead! You're all either gonna die or bow down to us like the pig-headed, spineless shits you really are! Did you really think that by putting the boss in jail that our plan wouldn't continue? Hmph, some cop you turned out to be!"

"Do I look like a cop?" I question emotionlessly, before shooting him in the balls and strolling casually over to him as he sits there in complete agony; hands and legs tied up as he doubles over in pain.

Maybe he'll survive this, or maybe he won't. I highly doubt it at this height, but by some miracle perhaps he could come out of this thing alive. Although, even if he does manage to survive the drop, his legs will be broken and he won't be able to move with a bullet in his… you know.

Feeling absolutely no remorse for this man, I pick him up by the collar of his jacket, spit back into his face and toss him off the cliff; not looking back as he shrieks from the fall.

Maybe I should take his advice and pay a visit to Carver, but that'll have to wait. I need to go into hiding for a bit before I can take on the big guns and get back to Clementine.

…..

Murder is one of the worst kinds of crimes imaginable. Taking away another person's life with direct intent… you can't get much lower than that, and trust me when I say that I've gone to pretty low points in my life. I certainly didn't feel a sense of pride or accomplishment after I killed Troy and Tavia. If anything, their deaths only made me feel worse.

But really, with everything that's going on, is it truly evil and terrible of me to kill off murderers like these? In ancient times, if somebody killed your brother, you went over to their house and killed _their brother _as retribution. That's just the way the world worked back then. Sure, obviously times and ideals have changed dramatically since then, but the ideals we have today could be vastly different in the future.

The lines between good and evil are becoming clouded. With the police force in complete disarray, and with the recent news that somebody murdered the mayor and several of his security officers at that meeting yesterday, people are committing crimes everywhere. While I was driving, at least three bricks were tossed with an attempt to injure at my windshield, and I say a boy getting beaten to a bloody pulp over a sandwich that he had just brought from home. Things in Atlanta are fucked right now.

Total chaos – isn't that what those goons wanted? They desired a revolution, where the government was overthrown and everyone was on an equal playing field. I can respect that notion, I'll admit. But their plan has fallen through the cracks: give the wrong person power, and they'll abuse it. Law and order is starting to be ignored in this city.

So, I ask again, am I really a monster for murdering the killers themselves?

Sitting on an old park bench, I hold my head in my hands and try not to think too much about it. The priority is, as it's always been, getting to Clementine. If I'm going to jail for my crimes anyways, then I can't just turn myself in now. I've come this far, so I might as well finish it.

"This seat taken, son?" asks an obviously homeless man with ratty clothes and long, greying hair. Shaking my head, I shift over to the left a little bit so that he'll have some room.

"Name's Chuck. Charles, if ya fancy," he says, offering me a hand as I take it hesitantly. What's this guy's deal? Has he come to strip me of my money or car keys? Is he going to have five guys just jump out of the bushes and beat me to death?

…No, that's not it. I'm just being paranoid: not everyone is an asshole around here.

"Lee," I introduce myself, leaning back in my seat as Chuck nods in remembrance.

"Ahh, that's right. You're that Everett fella they showed on the news," he says, stretching his arms out and giving me a whiff of his odour. Damn, this guy needs to have a shower badly! "So you're that cop that tossed them bad ones into jail, are ya?"

"Not anymore," I respond flatly, shaking my head. "I quit the force three days ago – it just wasn't working out."

"Sad to hear. You were makin' a difference out here, boy."

Gesturing with my hand out to some of the smashed shop windows and cars, I shrug my shoulders and try not to be too sarcastic.

"A lot of help it did," I tell him, "Crime's worse than ever now. People are dying out here, Chuck! And I couldn't do a damn thing about it! If it weren't for me then none of this would've happened, and Clementine would still be here with me!"

"She your daughter or somethin'?" Chuck asks, and I question myself as to why I'm spilling my guts out to a homeless man that I literally just met.

"No," I respond shakily, rubbing my eyes tiredly as guilt starts flowing through my system, "but she's as close to one as I'm ever gonna get."

"Sounds to me like you care about her a mighty bit," Charles remarks, studying the ground below him. "I know you ain't a cop no more, and I don't mean to tell you how to do your job… but too many people have died already. There's no need for you to contribute to that mark."

"…How do you know…"

"I've met killers; seen my share," Chuck admits, shrugging his shoulders. "You're different though, I can tell. Right as I sat down I knew that you did somethin' wrong, and your guilty face told me more than enough. Trust me son, I've seen people walking down the same path that you're on. So I'm gonna tell you the same thing that I told them."

"Which is?" I ask, suddenly seeing this wise old man in a whole new light.

Placing a friendly hand on my shoulder, Chuck squeezes and looks me straight in the eyes.

"Don't let hate rule your heart," he finishes, before standing up and walking away. By the time the words truly sink in, Chuck has already disappeared.

Repeating his words softly aloud to myself, I sigh and realize that he's right. I was blinded by hatred, anger and grief, and I murdered those two because I was weak enough to stoop to their level. As long as I can help it, I won't sink to that place again.

Stepping back into my car, I sit there in silence and careful thought as the news reports that the city is about to go under temporary lockdown; in an effort to stop the attacks. Yet again, the thugs managed to kill more innocent civilians today, as a mass murder was performed in one of the local grocery stores, and shelves were raided as other civilians stepped over their dying bodies.

I won't kill him, but I need to get to Carver as soon as possible. I need to find out just what the hell is going on, and put a stop to this shit once and for all.


	11. There's a storm coming, Mr Everett

Opening up my closet late at night, I sigh at the first thing that I spot inside: an officer's uniform that I left in here after I had quit the force. I'm not torturing myself by keeping this here, but it's nice to have a reminder that for once in my life… I actually lived for something. I never admitted this to anyone, but I was proud of being a cop while it lasted. I finally had a purpose; something to look forward to.

Look at me now… barely scraping by and going on a manhunt for a little girl all on my own. How the mighty have fallen, I suppose.

Brushing my thumb along the beige clothing, I stop as I feel a bump in the front pocket of the shirt. It's barely noticeable, but I pull out the piece of paper anyways.

Unfolding the paper and glancing down, I feel tears start to form in my eyes as I realize what this is: Clem's drawing of her and me as police officers. I somehow managed to keep it after all that happened; as if I mentally kept a piece of that special little girl close to me the entire time.

I may have failed her before, but I swear on my life that I'll get her back. Nothing will stop me from getting Clementine to safety again, even if I have to risk my own life to do it.

Slipping the picture into my bag with care, I go back to searching for what I had originally come to the closet for: my old clothes that I used to wear whenever Kenny and I went out on heists. Black hoodie, pants, ski mask, gloves and running shoes. It kept my identity hidden most of the time back then, and although I told myself that I'd never have to live this life again, I need to resort back to my old tricks one last time.

Let's get to work.

…..

The first step of breaking and entering (especially in a high-security prison) is to be aware of your surroundings. I'm parked in my old Saturn a good ways away from my destination, and nobody's spotted me yet. I know for a fact that the prison is slightly less guarded this late at night, but the guards are still trained professionals; they won't be that easy to fool.

I'm also a professional, though, and I shouldn't have much difficulty.

It looks as though the front door isn't an option, as they've got one of those watchtowers with the really bright lights watching over it like a hawk. Even if they don't see me, I'd imagine that one of their security cameras would. So I figure my best option is probably going to be the side of the prison… but that barbed wire is going to be a bit of a challenge.

It's a good thing that I decided to bring my old wire cutters, then! As I've said before: Kenny and I were always prepared for any situation. Once I get past that fence, then that ladder up to the roof will probably be my best option. I'll have to be extremely stealthy, though, in order to not get caught.

Under cover of darkness, I sprint through the farmer's field that sits right beside the prison. I'd be slightly terrified if I was the farmer, especially since this place is in the unpopulated area of the city and far from other watchful eyes, but that's not my problem. My bag ruffles around on my back as I almost trip over cabbages, but I quickly regain my footing and edge my way closer to my destination.

Right before I approach the fence, however, I luckily see a security camera move around, and so I duck onto my stomach and stay completely still. Once I'm satisfied that it hasn't spotted me, I slowly pull the pistol out of my pocket, aim and fire directly into the lens. I'm terribly surprised that I managed to hit it directly from this distance, but there's no time for glorying in my accomplishments. I resume my trek to the fence when I don't see any other cameras or watchdogs around.

Unzipping the bag, I pull out the heavy-duty clippers and begin to cut through the chain-link fence; silently grateful that it's not electric. Once my task is complete, I cringe as part of the fence cuts me as I walk in, but at least I've made it this far.

Now comes the hard part: getting to Carver.

Checking to make sure I haven't been followed, I make my way up the sturdy ladder to the roof, only to duck when I see that one of the security guards is up there patrolling. Shit! I should've known that I'd face some resistance.

Don't ask me where I got an entire bottle of chloroform – just know that Kenny and I often used it as a last resort. I hate to admit it, but black markets can actually be handy if you're looking for things that you really shouldn't have. Dousing a strip of cloth with the substance, I look up to see that the guard is just strolling to and fro like a loyal watchdog. It must get pretty boring up here for him; having to stay up here by himself with nothing to do.

He looks tired – maybe I should put him to sleep…

Sneaking up behind the man, I place the cloth directly over his nose and mouth; trying my best to prevent him from screaming out to his companions. He's stronger than I am, but I got the jump on him, and the chemical starts its magic as he slowly goes limp in my arms.

"Night, sweet prince," I whisper mockingly, dragging him behind an air vent and setting him down gently. Before I leave, I grab his set of keys just in case I need them for something. I need to do this quickly: that chloroform won't work forever.

Looking downwards, there are three different sets of glass-pane windows that I can choose from. One overlooks the marshal's office, one leads to the cafeteria, and the last one is just what I need: the prisoners' chambers. I smash the glass with the butt end of the pistol and jump down to the second level; hissing in pain as I hurt my feet a little with the landing. If I had dropped all the way to the ground, I probably would've broken both of my legs and gotten caught.

But I'm Lee Everett, and I'm a total badass, so I stand up and look at all the shocked faces of the prisoners. Yeah, it'd be a bit random for some guy to come plopping out of the sky in front of them.

"Where's Carver?" I whisper to a few of the inmates, and silently they point to the left; afraid that I'll shoot them up if they don't answer me. Not saying anything more, I make my way over to where that bastard is; silently reading a book in the corner of his cell.

As soon as I approach his bars, he smirks and chuckles sinisterly.

"Back so soon?" he asks, setting the book down on his lap and looking straight at me. How he immediately knew it was me I have no idea, but this man is smarter than he looks. You'd have to be to get away with all the things he did. "Have you come back to finish the job? I'm assuming that you're by yourself this time, seeing's how you jumped through the skylight."

"I need information," I hiss out quietly, aiming my pistol at him even after that whole talk with Chuck. This is just as a precaution. "Your man, Nate, took a little girl named Clementine, and I need to find out where they are."

"Do you honestly think I'd tell you anything even if I knew about that?"

"I'd have no problem shooting you right between the eyes," I respond, the gun glistening in the limited light that they have in this place. "And I don't think you want to die today, do you?"

Folding his arms across his chest, he looks at me like I'm a complete moron as he strolls up towards me.

"You do realize where you are, don't you?" he questions, motioning with his head as all of the prisoners watch our exchange. All of them look incredibly tough, and are probably just itching for a good fight. "Most of who you see here were under my protection. What do you think would happen if you pointed that pistol at me and fired? I'd say you'd get a full-scale riot on your hands, Lee, and _I don't think you want to die today, do you?_"

Gritting my teeth, I sheathe my weapon and glare intensely at this despicable man. I have nothing but loathing for him, and he hasn't even physically done anything to me.

"What'll it take to reach a deal?" I ask, willing to indulge him for the time being.

"The world, Mr. Everett. The world," he explains, shaking his head. "But for now, freedom would be nice. You bust me out and I'll help you find that girl. Kidnapping was never a part of the plan anyways."

"What was your plan?"

"That doesn't concern you," he spits back, a cocky smile on his face as he knows that I don't have much choice. "You get me out of this rat hole that you caged me up in, and I'll get Nate to release the kid. You have my word."

"Why should I believe that you won't just run off or gun me down if I let you go?" I ask, not trusting any promise that Carver makes.

Shrugging his shoulders, Carver drums his fingers along the cold, metal bars of his cell. "You've killed two of my top lieutenants and have gotten nowhere. At this rate, I'd say that I'm the best hope you have."

When I raise an eyebrow, he sighs and stretches his arms out a little bit.

"Word gets around, Lee. When news reached me that Tavia and Troy were both slaughtered with no witnesses, I knew it couldn't have been anyone else."

"…fine," I relent, checking the halls again to make sure the coast is clear. When I'm fully positive that nobody's watching, I pull out that set of keys that I pilfered off earlier and unlock his cell; holding the pistol out in case he tries to knife me or something. "Take the lead. If we get caught, I'm putting a bullet in your head."

"Fair enough," Carver simply responds, giving a knowing nod to one of the other prisoners before motioning for me to follow after him.

"The fuck was that for?!" I demand, keeping to the shadows while trying to keep up with him. We're heading out to the training yard, and the cool summer breeze blows by our faces as we step outside. There are several dumbbells sprawled about messily on the ground, as well as some jumping rope and a bench press. I'd imagine that they'd need to keep a close eye on the rope, as one of these fuckers is likely to strangle another person over some dirty comment they'd make. Yep, prison sucks.

"It means that they'll be out soon enough," Carver explains, causing me to scoff.

"Over my dead body."

"If that's what it takes, then they'll probably do it," Carver snaps back, "Now shut the fuck up and follow me. You got anything to get us through that fence?"

"How the hell do you know so much about me, anyways?" I ask suspiciously, handing him the clippers and ordering him to cut it while I keep the pistol trained on him. There's no way that I'm keeping him out of my sight.

Grunting as he begins cutting through the wire, I'm about to ask again when he finally mentions something.

"I know about most thieves in this city. You and Kenny were no exception," he says, huffing as he snips off the last part of the fence. "You're one of us, deep down. You don't belong with those idealistic fucks over at Georgia State patrol. That's why you left, isn't it?"

"I left to track down sick fucks like you," I hiss, shoving him through the hole as I quickly follow behind him. The guards have caught onto what we're doing, and as we stumble down the hill and into the farmer's field, their machine guns blast at us in a desperate attempt to prevent us from escaping. The click of gunfire echoes as it hits the earth around us, but a bullet manages to graze past carver's ear; causing him to grunt in pain.

"Get up!" I tell him, dragging him by the orange collar of his jumpsuit and practically tossing the man further along as we escape our pursuers. Soon enough they'll send out the dogs, so we hurriedly make our way back to my car. The sirens of the prison blare as I drive away with the headlights off.

"Shit… do you have like a napkin or something?" he whines, not noticing that I've taken more of the chloroform and placed it on the cloth.

"Here," I say to him, casually passing the fabric over to him, "wipe your face, too. You've got blood all over it."

Within five minutes, Carver's passed out in the front seat as I drive back to Atlanta. We've got some business to discuss.

…..

"Make the call," I command, handing him my cell phone as he slowly stirs awake. Groggily, Carver looks around and wonders just where the hell I've taken him to, but chuckles when he realizes that it's back outside the warehouse.

"You fucking drugged me?" he laughs, taking the phone and dialing in what I presume is Nate's number. He better not be calling his mommy to come pick him up, or else he's not going to be leaving this car alive. "That's gotta be the oldest trick in the book with what I deal with every day! Man, you're some kind of asshole, aren't ya?"

"Don't test me, Bill," I warn him, not in the mood for his games.

"Party pooper," he mumbles before raising the device to his ear, smiling and shaking his head when he notices that I've still got the pistol out. "Nate, it's Bill. Yeah… I'm out now. So here's the thing… you need to let the kid go. Clementine, her name is. Lee wants her back."

"Uh huh… Well, don't hang up, I'll break the news to him," he finishes, turning to face me with a smug look. "He says that he doesn't have the kid. I don't know what to tell ya, Lee."

"Give me the phone," I snarl, snatching the device away and preparing to rip Nate a new one. "Listen up, you little shit. I know you took Clementine, so if you don't want your boss here to get a bullet in his brain, then I suggest you tell me where she is right fucking now! WHERE'S CLEMENTINE?!"

"Calm down, spaz!" Nate remarks on the other end of the line, laughing at how worked up I'm getting. "I killed your parents and your brother, sure… but kidnapping a little girl? That's a little fucked up, even for me! I go to my cult every Sunday! I'm not _that _messed up, even though Mother told me that she may have dropped me on my head one too many times…"

"Tell me right fucking now," I yell, so sick and tired of all of this bullshit. You want to know the sad part about these past few days? I've gotten more answers on my own and by force than I ever did as a cop. Being in the police force just left me with loads of questions, and no definitive answers.

"Well… there was that new guy that showed up a couple of weeks ago," Nate admits, "He was a bit weird though. Fucker never smiled or joked around, and when he did it just came off as forced and creepy. He was saying something about always wanting to be a father or some shit, so he's probably your guy. Medium height, short, brown hair and hollowed out eyes. He looks like the human form of Frankenstein."

"Where is he…"

"He was going to the Marsh House in Savannah, but then they closed the whole fucking city down. Soooo…. He's probably taken her back to her house, I'd imagine. Like I said, he's not the kind of guy you want babysitting the kids, if you know what I mean."

Immediately hanging up the cell phone and stepping on the gas, I ignore Carver's whining about letting him go and head straight for Clem's house.

I'm gonna kill that bastard if he even thinks about hurting Clementine.

…..

"Let me come inside with you," Carver tells me as I park next to this old station wagon parked in Clem's driveway.

"Weren't you just bitching to me about not letting you go?"

"I've had a change of heart," he muses, looking straight through the windshield to try and see if the stranger is waiting nearby. "Just let me talk to this guy; trust me, it'll probably be a lot safer for your girl. So… are we going in or not?"

Studying his face for a moment, I huff in annoyance and unlock our doors as we make our way up to the front steps. I for the life of me cannot figure William Carver out. First he sends out his minions to kill people, and is responsible for supplying that chemical shit that turned Diana back to life, and now he wants to _help me? _My brain hurts, but Clementine comes first. I don't want to trust Carver, but so far he's obeyed every command that I've given him. Maybe that has to do with the fact that I've had a gun on him most of the time, but still.

"Are you waiting for him to answer the fucking doorbell?" Carver asks, bringing me back to reality as I slowly open the door and poke my head inside. Clem's parents haven't moved… but Clementine's standing right over them. This stranger's got a gun to her head, and another oxygen mask sits near their feet.

Clem looks completely shocked, terrified and dead inside. I can't even imagine what she must be going through right now.

"Cl-Clem?!" I whisper, slowly walking forward until the kidnapper turns the safety off of his gun. "It's… it's me, sweet pea. I'm here now, it's okay…"

Her eyes lazily look up to my face, but she doesn't utter a sound. Her whole body is shaking, and she can't help but turn her gaze back down towards her parents.

"Glad you could join us, Lee," the stranger suddenly interrupts, turning my blood to ice as his low voice pierces my eardrums. Glaring at him, I lower my weapon and raise my hands up in the air; not wanting him to hurt Clem at all.

But if that mask is any indication…

"What did you do…" I ask lowly, gritting my teeth at this fucker as Carver hangs back for the moment.

"Performed our great triumph," he replies, eerily similar to Troy and Tavia's responses. Looking over at Carver, he doesn't seem affected by my questioning stare. "The experiments so far have been a great success. Soon, the drug will seep into every home in the US, and, if everything goes to plan, it won't be long before we – "

"Hand me your gun," Carver interrupts, stepping forward and opening up his hand. At first, the stranger looks confused, but once he realizes that it's his supreme commander giving the order, he nods slowly and walks towards him. The stranger occasionally looks towards me in anticipation.

"Are you finally going to kill this villain?" he asks Carver, pointing towards me as I debate on whether I should sprint over towards Clem or pick up my gun and kill the kidnapper. "You can finally get the revenge you seek, and then you can call in the revolution! Everything's in place, sir! You can kill Lee and start this off!"

"I don't think so," Carver replies coldly, his gruff voice seeming even more cold and calculating than usual. What the hell's happening right now?!

When the stranger cocks his head to the side, I see that Carver is examining the weapon while twirling it around in his hands.

"Bill?"

_BANG!_

The stranger drops lifelessly to the floor as Clementine shrieks in terror; seemingly awakened from her nightmare as she runs over towards me. I would try and comfort the poor girl, but all I can do is rub circles on her back as I look at Carver with shocked eyes.

"I'm taking your car as reimbursement," he tells me, silently demanding the keys as I toss them over. I'm not willing to put Clem's life at risk again, even if that means letting go of the most dangerous criminal I've ever encountered. "You and the rest of this city are going to see what's going on soon enough. I suggest that you get your girl somewhere safe, and quickly. Soon… soon we're going to see a new world."

Taking his leave, I shake my head and try my best to take care of the crying Clementine; even though I've never felt more scared in my entire life. Whatever he's planning, it's coming soon.

"Clem… Sweet pea, he didn't… he didn't hurt you, did he?" I ask fearfully, starting to panic when she points to the mask.

"He… He made me breathe through that thing… Mom… Daddy…" she sobs, tears staining her cheeks and soaking the top of my shirt.

"You're gonna be fine, baby girl," I whisper soothingly, grasping her hand and walking her out of this madhouse. Obviously the cops never showed up to investigate her house, seeing's how there are now three dead bodies lying in the living room. "Let's get you someplace safe, okay?"

Biting my lip, I silently hope that Kenny weighs our friendship higher than he weighs his job as a police officer. Otherwise, this could be the last time that I see Clementine ever; and I just got her back, too.

The girl waits patiently at my door as I gather up some supplies for us to take. With the way things have been going, I might not get another chance like this.

With one last trip back to Clem's house, I take out Ed's old Honda Civic and drive out. Ed won't be using this anymore.

_AN: Yes, I know… Carver got away, and he helped out Lee. You're probably wondering why. Well, here's the thing: Carver respects Lee to a certain extent, and I'm going to try and brush on this more in future chapters. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, so please leave a review!_

_And yay! Clem's back :D _


	12. This is the madness I've unleashed

"Clem… come on, honey. Talk to me," I say to her softly, silently begging that this isn't quite as bad as it seems. I've felt nothing other than worry for the girl since I found her again – she's definitely not the same person that she was when I knew her before. She's breathing, and she's still very much alive physically, but everything else about her is dead. All of the childlike perks and happiness about her have completely disappeared, as she stares aimlessly out the window.

Not getting any response, I simply turn the radio on a little bit and continue to drive. Kenny's place isn't too far from us, but I've had to take some different routes due to riots in the streets. Nothing about this place feels like home to me anymore. Nobody's out walking their dog or enjoying the nice, warm summer day down at the park. Instead, garbage cans are overturned, cars are ransacked and crime waits around every corner.

"Whenever you're ready, Clem, I'm here," I whisper, not expecting nor receiving a response as I drive into Ken's driveway. It's a weekend, so the whole family should be home… but right now I'm not so sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I haven't heard from the man in quite a while.

Hesitantly, the two of us make our way up the front steps and knock on the door; waiting for the closest friends we have left. While we wait for someone to answer, I look down at my little companion and sigh. She's lost her entire life in one fell swoop, and there's nothing I can say that'll make things better. Making things better would imply that I could bring her parents back… but not in the way that it actually happened.

I wonder if Clem realizes what that was all about…

"Holy shit…" I'm interrupted from my thoughts when Kenny appears in the doorway, bending down to Clem's height and saying how relieved he is that she's alright. When I try explaining that she needs a place to stay, he cuts in and just tells her to go see Katjaa and Duck. Taking one last longing look at me, Clem sniffles before nodding and trudging inside.

For his part, Kenny steps out of the house and closes the door behind him, making sure that nobody can hear us from inside.

Neither of us say a word; Kenny holds a steely gaze towards me to see if I'll break, but I stand there emotionlessly and await him to say something. Finally, after what feels like forever, Kenny pushes me in the chest and causes me to stumble backwards down the steps.

"Do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I'm pretty sure I do, Kenny," I retort, brushing the dirt off my pants, "but you're gonna have to be more specific."

"It's all over the news!" he snaps, reminding me of the temper that this guy can have at times. "Carver escapes, mystery man breaks out convict and avoids pursuit."

"Then maybe you'd better hurry up and catch him."

"Don't be fucking cute! Everyone at the station knows it was you!" he explains briskly, "God damn it, Lee! People are starting to find out about you! I've had three calls since this morning threatening to come blow up my house if I don't bring you back in a body bag, and those are the _nice ones! _Most of the others want your head on a pole!"

"There was no other way, you motherfucking idiot!" I shout unintentionally, causing a passing mother to hurry along without making eye contact at us. "He was the key to getting Clementine back! If I hadn't busted him out, then she'd probably be dead by now! Is that what you want?!"

"Don't pull that shit on me," Kenny warns, not wanting to hear any of it. Why can't he just listen to reason? "You know damn well we could've tracked her down if you had just stayed with us – you didn't have to run off like a scared, little bitch and try to find her yourself!"

"Oh yeah, because you guys were doing a hell of a lot to help out here. Take a good, hard look around you, Kenny! This is shit! This whole thing is one big pile of shit! So forgive me for not seeing how the police have been any help in this whatsoever!" I berate, huffing as I start to lose my patience. Kenny and I have had our fair share of arguments in the past, but nothing like this. "Hell… what the fuck do you want me to say? Sorry for being a douchebag and letting Carver escape? What do you want from me, Kenny?!"

"Rick wants me to arrest you on site," he explains quietly, after the both of us regain our composure for the moment. Of course he would… not that I blame him, of course. "Just… trust me, Lee. You'd be safer if you just turned yourself in. There are people out there that want your blood – better just to get protection from all of that."

"You think I want _protection?_" I ask, shocked that Kenny would even suggest a thing like that. "When have I ever needed it? We stole shit for over ten years and never needed protection! We were on our own if things went south, and there was more than one time that somebody wanted to kill us, Kenny! How are things any different now?"

"You unleashed a bio terrorist," he explains with a sigh, beckoning for me to come inside after all of that nonsense.

I walk into Kenny's home for the first time in years, but it feels as though I had never even left. He's still got the ugly-painted brown walls with that same wallpaper adorning it, along with the same couch that he and I would sometimes drink beer on. The television's new, though, and Duck's grown taller since the last time I saw him. Katjaa's got dark circles underneath her eyes, but even so she still gives me one of her warm smiles that I return. Clem's sitting absentmindedly on the sofa, probably trying to ignore the constant chatter of Duck.

What concerns me though, is what's on the television screen.

"Is that downtown?" I ask inquisitively, to which Kenny nods and tells me to listen to the reports going on.

"_We… we now report directly for the cause; that it might be heard across the city, across the state, and be supported by the other parties around the country and the wold," _Carley reports nervously, flipping through some pages as one of Carver's men holds a gun to her head. _"The day of reckoning is almost upon us… Your mayor is dead, and the city has been fornicated to block off any escape at the moment. Your country's leaders have demanded us and others like us to surrender… but we do not bow down to petty threats."_

"Daddy, what's happening?!" Duck cries out, pointing to the television screen as I sit beside Clementine; relieved that she's not flinching away from me now.

"Just some asshole making stupid threats, Duck."

"Language, Ken," Katjaa scolds him, but also biting her nails at what's going on.

"Right, right – sorry."

"_Our leader… Carver, has returned to lead the people into the new era of freedom, equality and stability. Here he is now with a special announcement…"_

I wrap my arm protectively around Clem's shoulders as she snuggles into my chest. I'm surprised at how comfortable she is around me, especially considering what she's had to go through, but I ignore that feeling. In a way, I feel like the uncle that she never had.

The television pans out to a temporary stage with a microphone and everything, and along walks up Carver with a big, smug look on his face. And alongside him are Nate, Wyatt, Eddie and a bunch more of his followers. He looks like a preacher about to speak to the masses.

"_My friends!" _he begins, lying through his teeth at the very first thing he utters. _"Thanks to one of our own, I have been released and brought back to you! The revolution can now commence! So… are you ready to see what we have planned?"_

I have to restrain myself from tossing something into the television screen and shattering the glass into a million pieces. I knew it… I knew that this would happen if I let him just walk out after killing the stranger, but I couldn't pull the trigger. Just knowing that Clem would have to see yet more violence was something that I wanted to avoid, and yet here he is now: more ruthless than ever.

"_This chemical agent has the potential to destroy brain cells… but also create new ones after the person has died," _he explains, and instantly fire burns through my chest. That's how Diana came back… and Clementine…

Looking down upon the scared little girl, I know that she's silently asking me if she's going to die. That fucker exposed her to this shit, and there's no telling what it's doing to her body. And if she somehow dies… she'll just come back the same way her mother did…

"_At this very moment, we control the substance and are prepared to detonate weaponized quantities of it across the globe. Yes, my friends, this isn't just a local rebellion here: this is a world-changing phenomenon! Our demands will be met, or else we will have no choice but to release it into the top economic sites of power. The White House, Eiffel Tower, Empire State Building… you name it, we're set to blow."_

The screen then goes to various points of interest around the world, and sure enough there are rebellions happening literally _everywhere. _Mass shootouts are happening in public squares, political buildings are being attacked, and people are running for their lives as the governments try to fight back. Jets are being sent into Atlanta right now, and by the looks of things they mean business.

"_No harm will come to you if you join us, my brothers and sisters!" _Carver booms, raising his weapon to the sky and getting a massive rallying cry. It seems that a large majority of Atlanta is in support of his insanity, and are fully on board with the mass killings of thousands of innocent lives.

"Kat, Duck… go pack your bags, alright?" Kenny whispers, sounding more frightened than I've ever heard from him. Giving one last pointed look towards me, he sprints upstairs with the rest of his family to pack alongside them.

I don't think Kenny realizes that even if Carver was still in jail, it wouldn't have mattered. Obviously this is much bigger than just him alone, as this is a total world organized effort to send the planet into utter fear and chaos. That's their goal – to bring the world powers to their knees and give the power back to those who have nothing. That's why people have been rallying around this cause.

"We're gonna be fine, Clem," I try telling her, even though I'm fearing for our lives. "We're gonna go with Kenny, and we're gonna try to find someplace better."

"Promise?" she asks me, not wanting to be left alone again.

"I promise."

"_I know that they're coming for us; the corrupt governments who try to make us believe that they have your best interests at heart. The same governments that treat you like dirt when you already have nothing – just wipe you off their shoes as if you're a big load of horseshit. But we're taking our society back from the greedy hands of the one percent! This is our land, our people, our blood! We won't be silenced! We –"_

"_They're dropping napalm in the streets!" _Wyatt shouts urgently, as the sound of jets flying overhead can be heard and the screams of frightened people fill the sky.

All of a sudden, the both of us see Nate smirking sinisterly over the television screen, and Carver shouts for him to stop as he takes the remote from the stage. Pressing one of the buttons, the green chemical is released literally everywhere as people just start choking violently. On the screen, you can see that almost every other major area in the world has also had the toxic substance released, and as more people are shot, they start… coming back.

"Lee…" Clementine whimpers; her eyes going wide in fear and tears as she stares at the screen, "Wh-what's going on?!"

Not being able to say anything, I watch in horror as the jets release the napalm right through the downtown area, and I have to close Clem's ears as people start screaming out in pain as the flames engulf their bodies. Those that haven't been killed by the flames have scattered about, as Carver, Nate and the rest of their crew are nowhere to be seen.

The chemical literally runs through the entirety of the city; spreading like wildfire as it eventually reaches us, I try sprinting up the stairs to safety as it quickly wades inside, but there's no escaping it. I'm infected, and by the sounds of the coughs coming from upstairs, Kenny and his family are too.

"Shit!" I swear, coughing up some blood as I try my best to hide it from Clementine. Unfortunately, there's no hiding anything from the inquisitive little girl, and instantly she gets even more worried that she was before. "God damn it… KENNY! WE NEED TO LEAVE NOW!"

"NO SHIT, SHERLOCK!" he yells back, not getting any scolding remarks from his wife this time. "Take Clem and get in your car! We're gonna try to get off at the bridge before they block every possible exit off in this city!"

Nodding quickly, I take Clem's hand and sprint out the door, only to widen my eyes in horror and run even faster towards the car. Walkers… I guess that's what I'll call them. "Monsters" doesn't really explain anything, but calling them walkers distinguishes them quite a bit. Anyways, they're everywhere! A bunch of Kenny's neighbours have come back to life after somehow being killed (probably by the military strikes that we somehow managed to avoid), and now they're already walking around looking for food.

"Inside Clem! Hurry!" I yell to her, shutting the door closed behind her and shooting one of the walkers straight in the face. Katjaa, Kenny and Duck witness what I've just done, and are horrified to say the least. But that seems to be the only way that these things will go down, so I ignore their shocked stares and encourage them to hurry their asses up if they want to live.

God, I sound like the Terminator…

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…" I whisper, not hearing any gasps from Clem this time about swearing. Reversing out of the driveway, I wait for Kenny to start taking off before quickly stepping on the gas and following behind him.

I guess that I'm not going back to jail after all.

_AN: Yes, I know that was a little bit short, but I just wanted to get across that whole feeling of the world starting to go to shit (which really, it is). Hopefully you guys have enjoyed it so far, and I'll try to keep it going soon!_


	13. The hardest words to say

_AN: Listen to the soundtrack for season one of the TV show for added effects :) Trust me, it works well and makes everything seem ten times more emotional. Especially for the last part in this chapter…_

"Lock your door, Clem."

"Umm… okay," she agrees slowly, pressing the button down as I lock the windows. "Why?"

"Just keep it locked, sweet pea. Don't worry about it."

Funny – every time you tell somebody not to worry about something, they always magically worry about it; almost without fail. Clementine's no exception, as she sinks lower into the seat and wraps her arms around herself in anticipation.

Letting out a shaky breath, I turn the corner and shudder at all the destruction out here. Buildings are up in flames, blown to bits or starting to crumble into ruins, people are being eaten alive by walkers as they gang up on innocent victims, and the sky has turned reddish-pink as a result of all of this destruction. Occasionally you'll hear the sound of military planes flying overhead; firing off small bombs and gunfire in an effort to take some of these things out. Helicopters sometimes lift people out to safety, and there's only one thing that I need to happen now:

We need to get the fuck out of Atlanta.

"Could you try calling Kenny's cell for me?" I ask her, punching in Kenny's number and handing her the cellular device. After a couple of busy signals, Clem says that the line's dead and that nothing's happening. "Damn… phone lines must be out of service."

"What are we gonna do?" she asks nervously, looking up at me with red, puffy eyes after a long time of crying about her parents.

"We'll follow Kenny for now," I explain, frowning at the prospect of us getting separated. But Kenny's got his family to look out for, so that comes first. It always does. I've got a family of my own now to take care of, too. "We're gonna try to take care of each other, sound fair to you?"

"Deal," she nods her head sadly, wiping at her eyes again. I mention that there's some tissues in the glove box, and she begins scrounging around for it.

"_WRAGHHH!" _screams a walker that gets the jump on us, and Clementine screams in terror as it bangs against the window closest to her trying to break in. Thankfully they're slow and not very strong, but they're persistent little buggers.

As I try driving away, the walker somehow manages to get its hand stuck in the door handle, so we drag it along with us as we push forward through a sea of more walkers. They're everywhere!

"Shit!" I swear as I try swerving out of their way, but two of them are impossible to avoid as we crash straight into them. One of the walkers gets trampled underneath the weight of the car, but one lands straight through the windshield as its head pokes through the glass mindlessly. Its jaws snap and it moans hungrily as its face tears away through the glass shards.

"Take the wheel, Clem!"

"I don't know how to drive!"

"Just do it, sweet pea!" I command, trying to grasp my pistol that's on the floor. If we stop in the middle of the street, we'll die no matter what happens, so I keep my foot on the gas pedal and pray that we don't smash into the back of Kenny's car. He just got that thing a little while ago, and he barely put any miles on it…

But never mind that! My fingers fumble around the pistol until I finally get a firm grip on it, and I fire off a blast the wracks both of our eardrums as the walker lays still on the dashboard. Regaining my composure, I take back control of the steering wheel and try looking around the hulking mass.

"Can't see a thing out here!" I complain, trying to move the car back and forth in an attempt to shake off the walker.

"LOOK OUT!"

Clem's words come too late though, as we crash straight into a pole and slowly get knocked out as the airbags hit our faces.

…..

_Hissssss….._

The sound of the engine letting off steam from underneath the hood of the car slowly awakens me, as I groggily look around and try to collect my bearings. The airbag has deflated (thankfully), and all I've got is a sore leg, but Clem's still got her eyes closed with a rather large cut from her hairline down to her forehead. Nudging her softly on the shoulder, she slowly awakens as well, though gasps slightly at the windshield.

The walker's still there, but its legs are just… not attached anymore. You can see all the guts and blood hanging off the hood of the now-dented car, but at least the thing's dead.

"You alright, Clem?" I ask worriedly, giving her back her hat that must have fallen off in the crash.

"Uh huh," she says quietly, placing her hat back on. Unfortunately, the thing got pretty dirty and now has a rather large blood stain on it, but it's still intact otherwise. "Where… where are we?"

Cracking my back out a little bit, I turn around in my seat and try looking around outside. Walkers still wander the streets aimlessly outside, and my insides churn at the prospect. All of this… was it all my fault that it happened? I know that I convinced myself earlier that it wouldn't have mattered if Carver was in jail or not, but… I'm starting to doubt myself.

Am I one of the reasons that a good chunk of the human population is going to die?

"I think we're walking from here on out," I remark, unbuckling her seatbelt but pulling out some of the tissues to wipe the blood off her head. "This probably won't clean it very well, but at least we can clean you up a little bit."

"Ouch…" she winces as I begin wiping her head. Thankfully it's nothing more serious than a minor cut – we don't exactly have any medicine on hand at the moment, and I don't suppose that the hospitals are going to be too readily available.

"Do you feel any different after breathing that stuff in?" I ask, dabbing at the blood some more.

"It smelled really bad, but not really," she replies, frowning at the blood stains as I toss them out the window and unlock her door. "Do you?"

Stepping outside, I try to ignore how badly it smells out here. The stench of death hangs heavily in the air, along with smoke from the fires. The road is scorched alongside us – burned to crisps by those napalm strikes. Dead bodies are occasionally sticking out from alleyways or just resting in the middle of the street with burn marks all over them. Others that were exposed to the toxic substance seemed to have come back, but a bunch of them have bullet holes in their heads.

The ones behind us didn't get so lucky.

"I can't tell if I feel worse from the chemicals or just from looking around out here," I admit, holding Clem's hand in one hand and clutching a pistol in the other. "Let's go look for Kenny – I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to."

"Yeah… it's not safe out here."

Glancing around, I widen my eyes and look upon a piece of scrap metal just sprawled out like a piece of common trash. This wouldn't be so interesting if it weren't for the fact that Kenny and I had seen these earlier – before we broke into Carver's hideout so long ago.

"What's that?" Clementine asks, tilting her head to the side as I bend down to inspect it. Green residue rests on the inside of the metal, and my eyes trail over to the rest of the barrel sitting a few feet away.

"Kenny and I had found these when we were doing our detective work," I explain, rolling the barrel with my foot. CM is stamped on this object, and I angrily kick it away. "They weren't used for oil… They were used for the stuff they spread all over the world! That's what they were transporting from the pier, and when Nate pushed that button all of it was released! You following me at all, Clem?"

"Kind of," she shrugs her shoulders cutely. I don't expect an eight year old girl to understand everything, but at least she's trying. "Do you think things will ever be normal again? Back to the way they used to be?"

Wearing a blank expression, I stand up and begin to walk with Clem in the direction we were heading. The both of us know the answer to that: no. Even if miraculously this whole thing just blows over, and we can return to our lives, we've both lost people we cared about deeply. Getting over that… it's gonna take some time for the two of us to patch up our wounds.

For her sake, though, I need to stay positive.

"Yeah, I do."

"I hope so."

"You hold onto that hope," I encourage her, stuffing my hands in my pant pockets, "it's the one thing that none of this can take away. We might see some bad stuff, but we'll be there for each other. You, me, Kenny, everyone. We have to stick together to keep safe – I'm sure the military's going to help us out though, Clem. We should be fine."

Lowering her gaze to the floor, I struggle to find the right words to say to her. How do you comfort a child that's lost everything?

"Do you have any family we can stay with?" she asks, tears stinging her eyes as she remembers her own parents.

My insides grip as I recall that awful telephone conversation… _Be strong, Lee. I need you to be strong… _That's getting much harder to do these days.

"They're… gone…" I tell her honestly, as we both fall into a reminiscent silence. I can swear that I hear Clem squeak out a sorry in there somewhere, but it doesn't matter. There's no going back now – we just need to leave the city and get to a place where we won't need to deal with any of those beasts, or have to worry about any more of our friends dying needlessly. I'm sick of this city, and everyone in it.

Turning around the corner, we stare wide-eyed at the airport and the thousands of people desperately trying to escape this place. It's a zoo out here.

"How are we gonna find them in all of _that?_" Clem asks, doubt etched into her mind as we walk out towards the tarmac. There's no point in just heading through the passenger area and waiting for a plane to come and take us away – we'd be sitting there and waiting for days.

"I guess we'd better start looking," I reply, taking her hand and walking towards the mob of frantic people trying to escape.

…..

"Jimmy! Jimmy, wait! Don't leave yet!" a sobbing mother calls out to her young son, trying to reach out to him but getting blocked off by a couple of armed soldiers. It seems that he's getting transported on some sort of cargo plane, but they can't go together. "Don't take my baby away from me, you monsters! PLEASE! JIMMY!"

"Ma'am, you need to step back or else we'll have to resort to desperate measures," the one soldier advises her, shoving her with the barrel of his gun in an effort to calm her down.

"Get the fuck out of my way!" she screams, maneuvering around the soldiers and trying her best to get on the plane with her young boy. "Jimmy! Mommy's coming!"

But she never gets there. The boy screams in fright as his mother is gunned down by the soldier, before his partner shoots her square in the head to prevent her from coming back. Apparently that works – as long as you shoot them in the head as they're dying or immediately afterwards, they won't come back as a walker. Still, a whole bunch of angry patrons just witnessed this event unfold, and they're ganging up on the soldiers as I usher Clem to follow along beside me. She doesn't need to see this.

"Why did he…"

"People can do crazy things when they're scared, Clem," I explain a little loudly, trying my best to overcome the noise and screams of panicked citizens. "Just… don't worry about it, okay? That's not our concern. We've just gotta keep pushing forward, get to Kenny and – "

"Hey, wait a minute! You're Lee Everett! That fucker that let that Carver guy escape!" shouts an obviously frightened and troubled Italian man. He looks as though he just lost something very important to him, and is probably itching to get his hands on somebody so that he can take out his anger on them. Better act in cognito…

"Afraid you've got the wrong guy, sir," I tell him the same way I did with those kids. Looking down at Clementine, I can tell that she's slightly afraid of this man.

"Don't _sir _me, you god-damned sack of shit!" he swears, telling his buddy about me as I run faster and faster with Clementine still in my hand. When she's jerked out of my grasp, and I look back, I feel the same level of anger that I had when I killed Tavia and Troy – only this time, I don't think that anyone's going to blame me for it. _Nobody takes Clementine away from me!_

Instantly reaching for my pistol, I shoot the Italian's friend in the chest and watch as the angry man who took Clementine shakily backs up.

"You want to die, too?!" I bellow at him, watching as he turns tail and runs; leaving his dying friend behind as I put Clementine up on my shoulders and sprint off. "You alright, Clem?"

"…you… you shot him…"

"I had to, sweet pea. He was gonna try and hurt you."

"How do you know?" she asks as we run past more disturbed civilians.

"I just do," I reply simply, slowing down our pace as people run to their loved ones around us. There's a whole lot of tearful farewells, hugs and kisses, and cries out for people's parents. The scene itself is heartbreaking, but nothing's as heartbreaking as seeing Kenny standing there with tears in his eyes; Duck clutching onto his sleeve like a lifeline and Katjaa wrapping her arms around her neck.

Not wanting to intrude on anything, I place Clem down on the ground and we approach to listen in on what's going on from a distance.

"Please… I'm begging you!" Kenny croaks, his voice cracking as freshly-released tears start falling from his eyes. "Just take them with you! Please? It's… it's not safe for them out here! It's just a little boy and his mother! You can make room for that, can't you?"

"Of course… but that's all I can take," replies a pilot with dark, slightly spiked hair and glasses, with a nametag that says Mark on it. They're standing beside a very small passenger plane with about three other people sitting inside, while I finally realize what's going on: they can't fit everyone.

"Ken, stop it… We're not leaving without you!" cries Katjaa, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Yes you are…"

"No, we're not!"

"Yes you are!" he retorts, grasping her shoulders and shaking her slightly. "This… this is your chance! Head over to Florida with our son – I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you two! I won't let you die out here…"

"No! Daddy, you're coming with us!" Duck sobs, burying his face in his father's jacket as Kenny bends down and gives his son a hug. "I don't want to leave you!"

Clem's clutching hard onto my hand, and I'm trying my best not to cry at this scene. Kenny would never leave his family unless there was absolutely no other option left in the world – this is probably the last thing he wants to do. He was always so proud of his little boy and his loving wife, and even though he admitted that his relationship was on the rocks, he always wanted what was best for the two of them. _My wife and son come first, _is what he always used to say to me.

"I know this is hard," he chokes back sobs, patting his son's back like the comforting father I know he can be, "but… it's for the best, Duck. This is your chance! For the both of ya! You need to look after you mommy for me, okay sport? Can you… can you do that for me? One last time?"

Nodding sadly, with tears staining his cheeks, Duck hugs his father so hard that it's a wonder that Kenny's able to breathe. Katjaa joins in too, and even Mark's getting a little touched by the trauma.

Kenny then proceeds to hand Duck his fishing hat, which is something that I never thought I'd see. Kenny hardly ever takes that thing off.

After what feels like forever, the family breaks apart, and Kenny's remaining family climbs aboard the plane with pain in their hearts; giving us soft waves as they notice us. Kenny hasn't turned around yet.

"I'll find you both again someday!" he calls after them; one hand waving goodbye and the other wiping away his tears. Mark climbs into the cockpit as the passenger door shuts behind them, while Kat and Duck stare out the window to get a look at Kenny one last time. Waving and crying frantically for his father, you can see Duck calling out through the window as Clementine waves goodbye to him.

The plane takes off into the air, and Kenny stands there; motionless and silent.

Looking sadly towards Clementine, the two of us walk up to him and stand on either side of my partner in crime.

"God damn it…" Kenny whispers; shaky sobs escaping his throat as Clem clutches his hand in hopes that it'll make it better somehow.

"It's alright, man. You did the right thing," I soothe as he collapses into my shoulder. I embrace him in a friendly hug as Clem joins in as well.

This is our family now; we're all we've got left.


	14. Our plans never work!

"I'll drive," I command, gazing upon Kenny's deflated look as he carelessly hands me the keys to his blue pickup truck. With the way Kenny's feeling right now, he'd be more likely to drive us into the ocean than stay on the road.

Neither Clem nor Ken are particularly chatty right now as I put the keys into the ignition; the engine roaring to life as I spit out the window. This place has been nothing but a tragic disappointment – all of the planes were full, and those that weren't occupied had pilots that weren't nearly as generous as Mark was. To be fair though, Mark was a unique case – not too many people would be willing to take a bunch of strangers with them up in the air, especially after a global emergency like this is turning out to be. I think I'm also included in that group, unfortunately.

Telling Clementine to close her eyes, I floor it out of the airport parking lot and forcibly push my way past people. Many of them yell and scream at me to take them with me, but I don't look at any of their faces. My insides cringe together as at least three people are hit by our truck, hence why I told Clem to close her eyes, but Kenny doesn't even seem fazed. I wonder if he had to do that too…

"Shouldn't we have helped them?" Clementine asks pensively, turning to look out the back window as people try chasing after us.

"We can't trust people out here," I reply solemnly, my face growing stern as I continue driving forward, "not anymore."

"Why not?"

Sighing, I look to Kenny to provide some help, but he's lost in his own train of thoughts.

"Because… things aren't the way they used to be, kiddo," I explain, turning a corner and trying to make my way to a road that'll lead us to the highway. "People do crazy things when they get desperate. It's better to just stick with us three for now, okay? We're a team of… police officers. And you're an honorary member now, okay?"

Normally, I think that Clementine would've been over the moon to hear me say that, but the novelty has worn thin. There's no longer that bubbling excitement from her that I had seen when I came over to her and her parents' house, and it sucks. I'd give anything for her to just have one more day of happiness; a chance to just be a kid again for one fucking day. In one fell swoop, Clem's childlike innocence has been totally erased.

And it's all my fault.

"You got anything to eat in here, Kenny?" I question, turning the radio to AM in order to hear any potential local messages going on. It's mostly static, but something will come up eventually. "Clem hasn't eaten in a while."

Kenny continues to stare out the window; shoulders sagged and fist holding up his chin as he watches the passers-by. I tap him on the shoulder, and reluctantly he turns towards me.

Never have I seen this man so completely and utterly depressed. He doesn't even look like he cares anymore, even though deep down I'm sure he still does.

"There's a box of crackers underneath the seat. Help yourself," Kenny tells Clem absentmindedly before looking out the passenger window again.

Shaking my head and huffing, I begin to explain what the plan is that I've come up with.

"So," I begin, scratching my head before drumming my fingers along the steering wheel, "I was thinking that we'd start trying to head south to Florida. Who knows if it's as bad down there as it is here, plus we can maybe try looking for Kat and Duck. We'll take the highway down past Macon, and then – "

"Stop the truck," Kenny suddenly interrupts quietly, though I can tell that his eyes are brimming with rage.

"Umm… why?"

"Stop the fucking truck now, Lee!" he yells as I reluctantly oblige; having to do so anyways because of this massive traffic jam. What does Kenny see that I don't see?

Without warning, Kenny opens his door and stomps outside while Clem and I watch him in confusion. Where the hell is he going now?

"YOU'RE KILLING US!" he bellows, waving his hands around desperately as I hop out and tell Clem to follow me. I don't plan on leaving her alone in the vehicle right now. "YOU MOTHERFUCKING SONS OF BITCHES! YOU'RE KILLING US, YOU PIECES OF SHIT! YOU'RE KILLING US!"

"Kenny!" I yell, rushing over to him to try and calm him down. "Take it easy, man! What the hell's the problem?!"

Not turning from his gaze, Kenny points straight ahead before letting loose another string of profanities. Still wondering what he's talking about, I squint my eyes and try to make heads or tails of what's happening up ahead. It isn't just us who are out of our vehicles – hundreds of stranded individuals are protesting and demanding that they be let through.

Wait… let through?!

"No…" I breathe out, looking as dozens of military vehicles and quarantine trucks are blocking off the entrance to the highway. They've barricaded the living hell out of the road; blocking off everything and everybody. A young guy thinks he's being smart by trying to drive on the grass to get onto the highway, but two soldiers shoot him down instantly as he dies in the front seat of his car; all bloodied and full of holes. "This can't be happening…"

"Are we gonna be stuck here forever?!" Clem asks nervously as I shake my head in refusal.

"No, we're not giving up," I say to her disbelievingly. "We'll just have to do some planning here, alright? We can, umm… head down to Macon. I know the area well – trust me, if anywhere is safe in this state, then that's it."

"Isn't that where your family was?" she asks innocently, and even Kenny looks at me hesitantly as he's brought out of his rant.

Biting my lip hard, I rub my eyes together and nod in affirmation. "Yeah," I reply, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "They're not around anymore, but yeah. I used to live in Macon before I knew this clown over here," I tell her, gesturing with my thumb over to Kenny. He doesn't take the joke nearly as well as she does.

"Anyways," I finish, walking back towards the truck, "before we do that, I think there's one last stop that we need to make first."

…..

"You really wanna do this?" Kenny questions, a little bit more talkative than before.

Looking at the sign for the Georgia State Patrol that I must have seen at least a hundred times by now, I shrug my shoulders. I doubt that anybody's gonna be here, and I figure it'd be worth it to check the place out a little bit.

"We need the supplies," I remind him, parking the car in the small lot and heading inside. The front door's not open, but it doesn't matter much – there's still a big hole in the wall from that grenade. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Someone could toss your ass in jail…" Kenny mutters, confusing the young girl.

"Lee," she asks nervously, "what's he talking about?"

"Kenny's just talking more than he should," I tell her quickly, giving a harsh glare towards him. "Come on inside. Watch your step though, Clem. We need to be extra careful around here."

Stepping over the exposed metal rods sticking out of the concrete blocks, the three of us make our way inside. I haven't been in this place in about two weeks now, and boy does it look like a big pile of shit. Clearly looters already tried their luck with this place, as desks are flipped over and lockers have been emptied and ransacked.

"Any food left in the fridge, Clem?" I ask as I gaze upon where our desks used to be. Dug into the wood with a knife is my name with a skull and crossbones beneath it, but Kenny assures me that it wasn't any of the police officers.

"Nuh uh," she responds, closing the fridge and starting to look through the cupboards.

"Damn," I mutter, even though I'm not too terribly upset. It would've been nice if something was left, but I didn't just drive us over here for food.

It's the weapons that I'm more concerned about.

"Do you still have your armory key?" I ask Kenny, to which he nods and shows it to me under the dim lights. I reckon that the electricity will automatically go off across the city soon enough, and Atlanta will be put under perpetual darkness. As if it wasn't creepy enough with the walkers out here!

Calling out for Clem to follow us, Kenny goes to the back room proceeds to unlock the door; punching in the code for the first lock and using his key for the second. Can't ever be too careful when it comes to firearms.

The room isn't very well-lit in here either, but you can find your way around easily enough. Feeling Clementine grab my hand, I squeeze it and smirk down at the young kid. She and Kenny are the ones keeping my sanity in check – it's a miracle that I haven't ended up as desperate as everyone else in Atlanta.

"_Hallelujah! We have water!" _a voice calls out, and instantly Kenny motions for the two us to stay low. Kenny and I both pull out a pistol and follow the source of the noise. It's probably more looters, and we can't let them take away our guns. Yes, I know that guns aren't the things that save your life – people are, and don't ever forget that.

But out here, when the world's gone to shit, a gun certainly helps.

"_Oh man! This is the life!" _the voice comes again. I note that the second one is an older man's judging by the tone, and the first one sounds like a kid's. Hopefully this will go smoothly.

"Don't move, assholes!" Kenny shouts, causing the intruders to yelp in surprise. "The fuck do y'all think you're doing here?! You can't just barge into a place like this!"

"Jesus, could you have at least waited until I put some pants on?" the black man complains, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around himself. The other kid beside him must be his son. "And I didn't see any sign that says people aren't allowed in a police station! That would kind of kill the purpose of having one, don't you think?"

"SHUT UP!" Kenny bellows as Clementine slowly walks in behind me. If this goes to hell, then I want her out of harm's way. "Now I'm not gonna ask you again! What the fuck are you two doing in my god-damned police station?!"

"They're with me, Kenny!"

The both of us stare wide-eyed (me a bit more so as I start to back up) at Rick, who's just appeared and is drying his hair with a towel. Oh god, this is bad. This is really, really, really bad! If Rick sees me and decides that his duties are still applicable, then I'm –

"Might as well come out of hiding, Lee," Rick advises, ushering me forward with a wave of his hand. He smiles down at Clementine, and she shyly waves back at him. He must've gotten to know her a bit better after talking with her and Shane. "You're not in trouble… well, at least not with me. We can't kill each other if we want to survive this."

"Why are you here, anyways?" Kenny asks, lowering the pistol as he realizes that Rick's with them. "And who are these people?"

"Guys, this is Morgan and Duane," he introduces as neither of them look impressed with us. I don't blame them for that regard. "and… we're taking the guns with us. I've got to get back to my family, and I owe these two a debt of gratitude."

"That's not happening, Rick," I tell him forcefully, not backing down even if he is the sheriff. "We need those weapons the same as you. At least give us a few of them, some rounds and then we'll be out of your way."

"You're that bastard that let Carver escape, aren't you?!" Morgan accuses, and I roll my eyes in annoyance. That's what everyone's first reaction to me is gonna be, at least for the next month or so. "This is your fault in the first place! Why should we let you go into the armory at all? DO you have any idea the damage that jerk has caused?!"

"…I'm sorry if something happened to you," I apologize, trying to calm the situation down a little bit. "And Rick… you've gotta believe me, man! If I didn't bust him out then…"

Looking down to Clementine, I notice that she has her eyes trained to the floor. Whether it's her just thinking about her parents or being disappointed in me, I have no idea.

"…either way, it would've happened anyways. You saw what happened, didn't you? Carver didn't even release the stuff! It was Nate, one of his lackeys!"

"Well, I believe you, Lee," Rick acknowledges, proving to me again how good of a judge of character he really is, "but I know for a fact that most of them don't. So if I were you, over the next little while, I'd keep my head down and avoid doing anything too risky."

"Does heading out to Macon count as risky?" Kenny remarks, folding his arms across his chest.

Raising and eyebrow, Morgan looks towards me before putting his clothes back on – out of Clem's sight, of course. "Why would you folks wanna go over there?" he asks, wiping some of the water droplets out of his eyes. "The way that I heard it, Macon's crawling with the dead."

"We need to head south, and that's our last option right now," I explain, mentioning how the highway is closed off. After some more chatter amongst Kenny and Rick, we all head into the armory to divvy up the weapons a little bit.

"Duane, this isn't a toy, understand?" his father says sternly, handing him the pistol as Duane nods in confirmation. "Rick's gonna show you how to use this thing – you do _everything _he tells you, and only shoot if he says it's okay. Got it?"

Looking over at the boy, I get the feeling that he's barely over Clementine's age. Rick looks at me before motioning towards her, and instantly I shake my head in disapproval.

"She's eight years old!" I protest, not believing for a second that she should be handling a gun. Not because she's not mature enough, but because… well…. Fuck, I've got nothing.

"Better she learn now than having to worry about it later," he mentions, and so I bend down to Clem's height to see if she's alright with this.

"Clem… _sigh, _Rick's got a bit of a point," I conclude, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You need to know how to protect yourself."

"Like hiding or running away? Got it," she remarks innocently, making me chuckle despite the circumstances.

"He means with one of these," Rick cuts in, holding out a pistol in his hand.

"Don't be afraid of it, honey – it's just a thing. But know where your finger is all the time."

"Maybe you should be giving the lessons here!" Rick chimes in, smirking as he brings Duane over to the shooting range. "We don't have a lot of time here, alright? Just a basic overview and then we've gotta head out."

"You've got it," I agree as Kenny and I start showing Clem how to properly handle a gun. "Don't lock your elbows, and keep it steady…"

…

One shotgun, three extra pistols and a hunting rifle, along with a bunch of ammunition and some tear gas (which is pretty much useless against the dead) is what we've ended up with. It's nothing too extreme, which is what we want since we don't want to attract too much attention to ourselves.

Night descends upon us, and we've decided that now's a good time to start driving off. We don't want to be caught out in the open like this with a massive hole in the police station, so we're set to say our goodbyes.

"You're sure that you won't come with us?" Rick asks, more than willing to let us tag along.

"Lee and I talked about it, but we feel it's best that we just move on," Kenny answers, shaking Rick's hand and nodding towards Morgan and Duane. "You take care of yourselves."

"Find your family, man," I encourage, shaking his hand firmly. "And… I'm sorry about quitting the force. I just lost it a little bit after… everything that was happening."

"You don't need the badge to be an officer, Lee," Rick nods before bending down to Clementine's height and tapping her hat. "I think that'd look better on you than some dirty, old sheriff's hat, little lady."

Giggling shyly, Clementine smiles and takes my hand like the adorable eight year old girl she still is (well, in some aspects, anyways).

We all wave goodbye as Rick takes off in a police cruiser, while Morgan takes his son in a different car. The only vehicle left as the dust rolls behind is Kenny's pickup truck.

"Macon, I suppose?" Kenny asks shortly after, getting a court nod from me as we start heading back.

I don't make it three feet before a black van comes to a screeching halt right beside me.

Three masked men come out with baseball bats and start viciously assaulting me; the blows stinging my arms as Kenny tries to come to my aid. His pistol is knocked out of his grasp as one of the assailants bat it out of his hand, and Clementine shrieks in fright as they start dragging me into their vehicle.

"You're under arrest!" one of the bastards call out, even though I can tell they're not a part of the law enforcement.

"Under what fucking charges?!"

"Tossing our men into jail…" he remarks lowly; tossing me against the van as I struggle against them.

"KENNY!" I bellow, trying to get one of the masked men to stop his assault of the poor guy as another one smacks Clem straight across the mouth. "JUST GO! TAKE CLEM WITH YOU!"

"FUCK THAT!" he snaps, gasping for air as the blows stop. "We're not… letting them… take you!"

"LEEEEEEEE!" Clementine cries out, wailing as I'm tossed into the van.

"Take care of yourself, sweet pea…" I tell her, hearing her screams as the door closes and the driver floors it down the road.

Feeling the restraints being tied around my arms, I allow them to do it as to not get even more hurt than I already am. Everything's sore, and my brain is trying to process just who would have it out for me this badly.

Taking off their masks, I snarl and rage as Nate, Eddie, Wyatt and Vince all unveil themselves.

"Long time no see, buddy!" Nate grins sinisterly, hitting me roughly with the end of the bat against my eye socket again and again as I hiss in pain. I can feel the blood trickling down my face, and the last thing that I hear before blacking out is for Wyatt to drive to the firing squad.


	15. Execution

"_Shit, man! You got blood all over the seat!"_

"_Oh quit your whining, Eddie boy! This was a rental anyways."_

"…_yeah…."_

"_Is he still passed out back there, Nate?"_

"_Yeah, Vince. Eyes front, soldier! Dr. Nate's got this all under control!"_

"_Hmph, yeah, sure seems that way… You took that way too far, dude."_

"_What's coming out of your white-trash mouth now, Wyatt?"_

"_You fucked up his eye, man! It's all swollen and bruised and shit…"_

"_Nothing he can't shake off!"_

"_How do you know if there's any brain damage? You could've killed him! Bill's gonna be pissed…"_

"_To hell with what Bill thinks! The guy's a flake! He's got so much pride that it's riding up his ass, and he should be thanking me for doing all this shit for him!"_

"_You mean killing thousands and bringing them back to life? We all know it was you who pushed the button, Nate!"_

"_All a part of the plan, Vince. All part of the plan…"_

Little do these nutjobs know that I've been listening in on their conversation for the past five minutes, even though I can't force myself to open my eyes. My head is absolutely pounding, and my right eye feels like it got pushed back further into my socket and into my skull. There's blood, I can feel it on my cheek and around my eye, but… there's something else. My memory's a bit clouded, and all I feel is pain and anger. I'm pissed off! Something inside me has snapped, and all I want to do now is just… just…

Kill everyone in this fucking van!

…but I'm not stupid. Trying anything in my condition while sitting in a vehicle of four men armed to the teeth would just be suicide. I'm certainly no Superman, and any attempt at breaking out would be pointless.

"Get up," Nate orders after a little while, smacking me in the arm with his bat. Groaning out in agony, I painfully lift myself up and open my one remaining good eye. The other one is squeezed shut.

"We gave you a bit of a makeover!" Nate smiles wickedly, drumming along the wooden baseball bat with his fingers. "Trust me, Lee; you look much better than you did before. Who needs two eyes anyways? It only takes one to see shit in front of you!"

Not giving any emotion away, I continue to stare at him with cold indifference, causing him to feel slightly uncomfortable under my continuing gaze.

"How much further, Wyatt?" Nate asks, turning his head away from me.

"Should be at city hall in about ten minutes, boss," he replies sarcastically whilst rolling his eyes. Nate glares at him sharply through the rear-view mirror before returning to me.

"You're one fucked up guy, you know that?" he asks bluntly, pushing my shoulder lightly. "You've got quite the reputation around these parts! Not only did you piss us off by tossing our guys into jail – "

"Not anymore…" Eddie murmurs, glancing back at me with a sorrowful look.

"What…" I breathe out, feeling like I haven't talked to anyone in years with how dry my throat is.

"Oh, didn't we tell you?" Nate smirks, folding his arms across his chest. "All of those guys you put into Georgia State? Busted them all out, we did! It wasn't too hard – it's not as if the guards could do anything about it either, seeing's how most of them left for their families before we got there. But yeah! How would you like to be reunited with your old pals from jail?"

I'm officially, royally screwed. If these monsters don't just shoot me in the head, then it'll be the mob of angry prisoners that gut me as I step out of the van. And it's not as if the general public will step in to help either – most of them are still pissed that I let Carver out of jail.

Speaking of which…

"Where's Carver?" I ask, feeling more lightheaded as I try to speak. Perhaps it's better that I don't talk too much anyways – these are the type of guys that like to rattle your chains if you know what I mean.

"Trying to get out I'd imagine; same goes for the rest of us," Vince answers, shrugging his shoulders as Nate slaps him upside the head. "What? I think he deserves to know after all this shit!"

"Know what?" I ask, trying my best not to fall over.

"What is this? Fucking story time or some shit?" Nate complains, groaning as he relents. "Whatever, it's not as if you're gonna live through it anyways… You know the green shit everybody was breathing in? Yeah, well… it doesn't just bring you back to life afterwards. It _shortens _your lifetime."

"How much was it again?" Wyatt asks, clearly disgruntled as he remembers the consequence of their little revolution. Clearly he's feeling bitter about Nate setting it off like that.

"Hmm… pretty sure it was fifteen years or so."

"Fuck sakes, Nate! This wasn't supposed to happen!" Vince snaps, kicking the door in frustration. "How much of a dumbass can you possibly be?! When Bill tells you to wait, you fucking wait!"

"Jesus, Vince! Would you quit your bitching already? With the way you were going, I don't think you'd last another five years anyways!"

As their arguing gets more intense, I find myself slowly slipping away. My eye's becoming heavy with exhaustion, and my entire body wants nothing more than to just shut down completely. Why even try to fight it at this point? If I die now, then hopefully I'll come back and kill all of these fuckers as well.

But Nate isn't allowing that, the son of a bitch!

"Hey! It's not fair that you get to nap and I don't!" he says, slapping me across the face and leaving a mark on my cheek. "You'll get to pass out eventually, big guy. Right after you confess."

"I don't need to do jack shit…"

"Suit yourself. It's your funeral after all – I'm just trying to make it a bit less painful," he shrugs his shoulders before reaching into a gym bag and pulling out a hooded cloth. Putting it on my head, Nate loads his pistol as the van slows to a halt. I can't see that much, but the hood is thin enough that I can sort of make out what my surroundings are. The material's really bothering my eye though.

"Try running away and you die. Try hurting any of us and you die," Nate remarks, roughly shoving me forward and onto the ground. I groan in pain as he kicks me square in the stomach. "In fact, do anything other than what we tell you, and – "

"I die," I finish, picking myself up as Nate starts to tie my hands behind my back.

"Now you're getting it," he chuckles before calling the rest of his gang to surround their 'prisoner'. Shoulders sagging, head down and legs reluctantly dragging me along, I've hit the end of my line. I'm going to be tried (and likely executed) for crimes that I didn't commit. Even when I try to do the right thing, I still get fucked over.

If by some miracle I manage to get out of this, I swear that this time I'll actually make it out of this hellhole of a city. And, if luck's with me, I should happen to get Nate's neck trapped within my hands, then that'd be a happy coincidence.

"There's gotta be a cure for this, don't you think?" Eddie comments as my ears perk up a little bit. Did he just say what I think he said?

"I don't know, dude," Wyatt answers truthfully, "Bill never went into much detail about what was inside those barrels. I didn't even realize they were full of toxic shit until last week."

"He's gotta have _something _though, right?"

"Would you two quit your bitching?! We're almost in the city square!" Nate yells, shutting the two of them up immediately.

Is there actually a cure for this kind of thing? I mean, it'd be a long shot, but they've gotta be working on _something! _If it's a global epidemic, then there's gotta be someone out there working on some kind of antidote! I mean, hell – we can't just be totally on our own, right?

My thoughts are temporarily forgotten as the yelling of people fills my eardrums and drowns my senses. They're all trying to talk over each other; each one of them scared, confused and looking for someone to blame for their troubles. It looks as though I'm going to be their little scapegoat.

Typical – people never want to take on the responsibility when shit goes sideways. I wonder if they'll regret this in the end…

"Stand up on the deck!" Nate yells, having to raise his voice in order for me to hear him. Remembering what he told me would happen if I didn't cooperate, I walk up the steps and take my spot next to the other victims.

"Got you too, huh?" asks the guy beside me, his voice muffled slightly by the hood over his head. "Damn… what did we do to get into this mess?"

"Wrong place, wrong time I guess," I answer simply, not wanting to spend my last few moments talking to some stranger that I'll never see again anyways. I want to look upon the faces of those closest to me – Kenny and Clementine. They were looking in pretty rough shape when we left, but I have no doubt that they're still alive. They have to be…

"The name's Alvin, by the way. Not that it matters that much, I suppose," he remarks, no doubt turning and waiting for me to reply.

"It's Lee," I tell him, sweat beading down my forehead. Geez, couldn't they at least give us some air conditioning or something?

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Lee. It – "

"Alvin! Are you quite finished there?!" another man interrupts; his Spanish accent coming in thick.

"Don't mind Carlos," Alvin mentions with a sigh, "he's a bit of an ass when he's nervous."

"Well, excuse me then! You're not the one with a daughter out there! Sarah's all alone, and I don't have any way of getting back to her…"

"Bec's in the hospital with a child, Carlos! I don't even know if it's a boy or a girl, so don't try patronizing me about that, alright? We're already scared enough as it is!"

"Okay, okay… sorry. It's just Sarah… she gets nervous, when I'm not around I mean," Carlos explains himself, even though I'm not really paying attention. "Pete, are you still with us over there?"

"Got nowhere else to be," he answers solemnly, though I can barely hear his voice since he's on the far end of the deck. "This is complete horseshit… Sentenced to death for trying to fight back against these assholes, and I've got no smokes! I swear to Christ, I'd smoke a dead 'coon's tail if I had one!"

"At least we'll go out together," Alvin mumbles, sighing heavily as the others concur. "What about you, Lee? What are you in for?"

"You'll find out soon enough…" I say as some more footsteps are heard scurrying around the deck. The screech of a microphone echoes out and stings my ears, as Nate's cocky voice comes on.

"Alright, let's get this shit over with. Pete Randall! You're up first!"

With a grunt, Pete is roughly brought up to the front as thousands boo and hiss at him. That must be humiliating, having to face public execution in this day and age. I thought we were past this kind of thing.

"Will you confess to your crimes, Petey?" Nate asks mockingly, getting loud responses from the crowd as they tell him to burn in hell.

"The only thing I've got to confess," Pete tells him defiantly, "is that you're full of shit, and none of this is gonna matter when you're six feet under!"

"Exile it is, then!" Nate finishes, which surprises me for a second. Exile? What, is he gonna ship him off to fucking Alcatraz or something?

"PETE! NO!" Alvin and Carlos both scream out as they take him away suddenly. Without warning, Nate whistles to two of Carver's Mafia members, who load their weapons and fire them into the heads of Alvin and Carlos. My breathing quickens and I bite my lip as I hear their bodies collapse right beside me.

"DADDY! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" somebody screams out, which I can only assume if Carlos' daughter. There's nothing worse than seeing someone you care about murdered – butchered like an animal in front of hundreds of screaming fans.

That could've been me if I had said a word about what they were going to do. If exile is so terrible that it made those two dead men protest in fear, then I suppose my only option is to tell the truth.

"Jesus, I might have time to go for a sandwich after this now!" Nate comments dryly, his indifference to what just happened scaring me terribly. "Last but certainly not least… well, I'll just let you folks see the bastard for yourselves."

Getting manhandled roughly, I'm forcefully shoved to my knees at the front of the deck… and then the hood comes off.

The effect is almost immediate. Death glares are thrown my way, hateful remarks are tossed about and people are demanding that they be the ones to end my life. How is it that when I was an _actual criminal, _I never faced this type of verbal abuse, but when I try to clean up the streets, everybody hates me?

Various items are thrown at me, which interrupts Nate as everybody tries to get a piece of the _monster _they've got on trial. Garbage, shoes… some prick actually picks up a brick and tosses it right at my forehead; causing blood to trickle downwards. It's not as if I was able to see it coming, not with my eye the way it is.

As I shake my head to try and relieve some of the pain, I gaze out into the crowd. It's mostly filled with people looking to stick various sharp objects into my stomach, but there's one friendly face that I recognize: Clementine! She's standing on top of a picnic table a little ways away from the crowd with tears in her eyes, but I have to shake my head as she insists on coming to rescue me. The only good that'll do is get her trampled on, and my life isn't worth as much as hers. She _needs _to live.

But where the fuck is Kenny?

"Lee Everett," Nate begins, standing side by side with the other three douchebags from the van, "would you like to confess?"

"What did you do to Pete…" I croak out, coughing up blood and spitting it all over the head of one of the crowd members. They aren't too thrilled, but boo hoo!

"Exile," he explains simply, shrugging his shoulders as if it's no big deal. "We sent him to the walkers, so he doesn't have much hope left. I wouldn't worry about him though, if I were you. Now, would you care to confess your crimes?"

"What happens if I do?"

"We'll let the crowd decide your fate," he remarks, "but by the looks of things, it seems as though they've already made up their minds. Now would you hurry up and pick already? I've got a hot date tonight!"

Glancing up sadly towards Clementine, time seems to go still. It's just her and I in the world now, and we both know how this is going to end. Regardless if I tell them what they want to hear or not, I'm going to die. Better to just get it over with quickly.

"I'm sorry, Clementine…" I whisper as she jumps off the table and tries her best to get up to the stage; crying uncontrollably and banging her tiny fists against some people who don't even notice that she's there. "I… I'll confess…"

"Excellent!" Nate cheers, raising his fist in the air as everyone else does the same. This is more of a cult than anything else. A sick, sadistic kind of cult that enjoy watching people suffer. "We SHALL TASTE JUSTICE HERE FIRST, MY BROTHERS AND SISTERS! THIS IS STEP ONE!"

"I put all of you fuckers in jail, where you belonged," I spit harshly into Nate's microphone, causing them to bellow back at me. "And I murdered Troy and Tavia… I wish that someone else would've gotten you bastards too!"

That quiets them down a little bit, as it seems that only Carver knew what I had done. But for some strange reason, he never told anybody else of his knowledge! Seeing as how they're slightly stunned, I continue my rant.

"You're all fucked anyway!" I snarl, gesturing to each and every one of them. Clementine tries coming around the side, and she's almost snuck her way up to the stairs. "Nate's poisoned the lot of you! Each and every one of you is gonna die thanks to this fucker right here! If you should want to kill anybody, it should be Nate! NOT ME! NATE!"

For his part, Nate seems like he'd rather be anywhere else. He looks incredibly nervous, as if the entire civilian population of Atlanta is going to rise up against him and tear him apart limb by limb. Instead of giving them that chance, though, Nate snatches the microphone away from me before whacking me over the head twice with it.

I fall to the ground in a bruised heap.

"Time for you to die, Lee," Nate remarks, pulling out a pistol and getting ready to fire it straight at me.

Again, time slows as he aims it towards me. Clementine has made it up to the stage, which startles the bastard for a moment. But as he regains his focus and fires a warning shot near Clem's feet, I practically beg her not to come any closer.

"Run, Clem! Get out of here!" I order, to which she immediately shakes her head.

"Not without you!" she wails, struggling to get away from Vince, who's started walking towards her.

I can feel tears welling up in my eyes as I realize that this could very well be it. I managed to cheat death for all of those years, but no longer. This is my final moment on earth… but I'm glad that I got to see Clem one last time.

I don't expect Kenny and a team of others to storm in and shoot Nate straight in the neck, killing him instantly.

Gunfire pierces the sky as the masses scramble to get out. People run for their lives as there are so many things going on at once. Kenny and Lilly rush up the stage and flip me over, examining my wounds and telling me that I'm going to be alright. My eye's still very much fucked up, and I wouldn't be surprised if it doesn't ever fully heal properly. Carver's Mafia flees to the wind as the shootout continues, and I feel Clementine clutch my hand tightly as I see Christa reappear; begrudgingly so. There are some other people coming as well, but my vision's slowly going.

"Come on, pal," Kenny urges, wrapping an arm around my shoulders as he leads me forward. "Truck's nearby – we're getting the hell out of Atlanta."

"Thank you…" I mutter, before my eye closes completely and I fall limp in their arms.


End file.
